


The Deceivers

by Wintermoth



Series: Tales From Camp Dragonhead [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Gen, In which Haurchy learns more than he expected to today, and has a minor heart attack y'know how it is, it's all the WoL's fault, minor spoilers for ARR - pre Ul'Dah, some minor flirting but this one isn't very fluffy sorry, someone get Corentiaux a drink, the Echo is a helluva drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintermoth/pseuds/Wintermoth
Summary: Haurchefant had just decided to investigate when the front door suddenly slammed open. “My lord!” cried the knight in the doorway. “You must come at once! It’s the Warrior of Light!”Haurchefant was on his feet immediately, a strange fear unlike any he’d ever felt churning in his gut. “What’s happened?”“I don’t know, sir, but she fell off her bird and hasn’t moved!”





	1. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the WoL has a vision, Haurchefant has a heart attack, and Corentiaux learns more than he bargained for.

It never ceased to amaze Haurchefant just how much paperwork existed. The Holy See liked everything documented and as commander of Camp Dragonhead, it was his responsibility to see it all completed, one way or another. Through the delegation of tasks, he only completed perhaps a fourth of the documents himself, but the other three-quarters still ended up on his desk for approval. Though after a thousand years of demanding meticulous records, it should stand to reason that Ishgard would have found a better way to do the whole blasted process. Haurchefant was half-tempted to ask passing adventurers if one did exist elsewhere but refrained for even if it did, the Holy See would likely not institute it until he was dead and buried.  
  
The report in his hands detailing horde activity in Providence Point was penned by a lowborn. That Haurchefant could make such a distinction ought to be a testament to how many samples of handwriting he’d had read over the years. Highborn sons and daughters were educated from a young age and would almost invariably have pristine penmanship. Lowborn citizens, on the other hand, did not always receive formal education and for those who did, it was not of the same caliber or quality as their more fortunate peers. Though the report was signed by a knight he knew to be from a minor house, Haurchefant also knew for certain that it was not he who wrote it.  
  
It was such a trivial detail but he was, quite frankly, bored. The activities of the dragons prowling the fallen Vigil to the northwest had swung between ‘concerningly busy’ and ‘blissfully slow’ for years now and the only time the former had proven troubling was several moons prior, before Svara was felled with the assistance of the Warrior of Light and a number of other adventurers who’d been in the vicinity at the time. Their victory had dealt a crushing blow to the Dravanian forces there and they had not been a problem since. According to the report, there were a few more aevi prowling the outer grounds of the Vigil than the last time but he hardly considered that a concerning matter. If the trend continued, perhaps then so, but for now he was happy to initial the bottom and set it aside with the other reports to be filed away.  
  
The next item in his docket to review was a short letter from the local hunt billmaster, informing him that no one had come to claim the bounties on Safat or Marraco yet. A pity. When he’d heard that three of their more formidable foes had made it onto the list of the Grand Companies’ hunt marks, he’d hoped they would soon meet their ends. Yet as if someone had tipped them off, two of the three dragons had disappeared off the face of Eorzea.  
  
Haurchefant sighed and set the letter aside to be disposed of. He reached for the next item in his docket and paused as a commotion from outside reached his ears. Thick stone did a good job at muffling chatter from outdoors and that he could hear the overlapping voices at all indicated they must have been speaking loudly. That…wasn’t a good sign. Ever.  
  
Haurchefant had just decided to investigate when the front door suddenly slammed open. “My lord!” cried the knight in the doorway. “You must come at once! It’s the Warrior of Light!”  
  
Haurchefant was on his feet immediately, a strange fear unlike any he’d ever felt churning in his gut. “What’s happened?”  
  
“I don’t know, sir, but she fell off her bird and hasn’t moved!”  
  
Haurchefant quickened his stride and the knight wisely moved aside. Outside, a small crowd had formed near the southern gate and in the midst, he saw Bobby Corwen in all his oddly-colored glory. “Stand aside!” Haurchefant’s sharp command echoed through the courtyard. Those before him obeyed at once, scattering like a flock of startled sheep, and he saw the Warrior lying in a heap on the ground. An elezen knight knelt beside her in the snow while another had Bobby Corwen by the reigns and was trying to move the chocobo’s dangerous talons away from his mistress.  
  
The knight beside her, a young woman named Fanette, shook the Warrior’s shoulder lightly. She looked up as Haurchefant knelt across from her. “My lord, I cannot get her to respond. Naught seemed amiss when she rode in, she simply fell off! As if she’d fainted! And yet…” She looked down and Haurchefant followed her gaze to the Warrior of Light’s face.  
  
Her brow was furrowed, as if in pain, eyes half-lidded, unfocused, but flitting back and forth in a manner that was near erratic. As always, she was poorly dressed for the weather, but this time it was a blessing, for he was able to easily press his fingers to her throat to feel for a pulse. After a moment, he felt it fluttering against his fingertips at an elevated rate. She was alive, her heart was beating fast, yet her breathing was slow and she was entirely un-responsive. What in Halone’s name…?!  
  
“Fetch a chirurgeon,” he ordered without looking up.  
  
“They’re on the way, my lord,” Fanette replied.  
  
Haurchefant uttered her name once more and touched her arm intending to shake it. His fingers had scarcely made contact when her eyelids fluttered, slipping shut. Then she inhaled sharply and they flew open. A startled murmur swept through the crowd of onlookers and Haurchefant leaned forward, saying her name softly. She looked right at him for all of a second before her face twisted in pain and she fainted, seemingly for real.  
  
The whole thing lasted naught five seconds. Except for the change in her face, it was as if nothing had happened.  
  
“Oh Halone, is she dead?” Fanette whispered, horrified.  
  
“No, she breathes,” Haurchefant replied and relief flooded through him at this realization. That relief was short-lived, however, as reality came to call and he realized that he knew absolutely nothing about what was occurring and was thus utterly helpless to help her.  
  
A chirurgeon chose that moment to make his appearance, a hyur man whose name who escaped him, and Fanette scrambled aside to give him room. Kneeling beside the fallen adventurer, he asked what happened and looked her over while Fanette gave her account. The chirurgeon nodded when she was finished and Haurchefant noted the worried tightening in the man’s expression.  
  
“What’s wrong with her?” Haurchefant asked.  
  
The chirurgeon looked up. “While I cannot speak as to what caused this, she likely has a concussion and possibly a neck injury as a result of her fall.”  
  
“Make way!” a gruff voice ordered and the crowd, which had closed after the chirurgeon’s arrival, parted once more to allow another chirurgeon and a knight bearing a stretcher through, and Haurchefant decided enough was enough. Trusting the professionals to care for his friend, he rose to his feet and addressed the onlookers.  
  
“This is not a spectacle for your enjoyment. Return to your duties and let the chirurgeons work.” His words were more than enough to send most of the crowd scattering and he leveled a stern look at those who were slow in their departure. After a few moments, they, too, dispersed and he returned his attention to his dear friend, whom the chirurgeons were easing onto the stretcher.  
  
“—hold her head steady while you carry,” the hyur was saying.  
  
“Will she be alright?” Haurchefant asked again.  
  
“I doubt there will be any lasting harm,” the chirurgeon reassured him, “and nothing a little magic won’t be able to sort out, once she’s been examined. I shall send word anon.”  
  
Haurchefant watched them carry her away, noting the careful way the man immobilized her head as they went, and his stomach churned with anxiety. He wanted to follow them but knew from experience that the head chirurgeon was like to throw him out on his rear if he got in the way, rank and propriety be damned. Still, there was no way he would be able to focus on his work now. What were trivial reports when one’s dear friend was in such a state?  
  
…One’s dear friend, indeed. And not his alone.  
  
He spun on his heel and strode back into the main hall with purpose. Though he had no idea what had occurred, by all accounts she had simply been fine one moment and in a strange state on the ground the next. Hale men and women did not simply fall off their chocobos. Being of House Fortemps, Haurchefant was well acquainted with them, and in all the falls he’d witnessed from their backs, never had he seen anyone, man, woman or child, behave as she did afterwards. Whatever had occurred, it was either a unique incident of considerable concern or a re-occurring thing with her. In either case, the Scions ought to be made aware.  
  
He ordered Corentiaux to see a courier and chocobo to be prepared for departure within the bell and sat down at his desk to write. With luck, the message would reach Revenant’s Toll by supper.  
  
It took three pieces of parchment and two abandoned attempts before he was satisfied with his letter.  


 

> _To the Scions of the Seventh Dawn:_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you swiftly. I regret to inform you that the Warrior of Light has suffered a fall from her chocobo and is currently in the care of our chirurgeons. While I can only provide you preliminary details as I have not yet been updated on her condition, I deemed it necessary to inform you of the situation posthaste._  
>    
>  _The chirurgeons suspect she may have sustained injuries during her fall and have proceeded with all due caution. However, I am concerned by the circumstances which lead to her fall, as all accounts indicate she was hale and whole in the preceding moments. I was by her side perhaps a minute afterwards and though I cannot adequately convey the state she was in, to mine eyes it was as if she were awake and yet not present. Shortly thereafter, she seemed to return to herself before falling unconscious, and so she remains as I pen this letter._  
>    
>  _While I shall not demand one of your order journey here forthwith, I would request it. I do not believe her life to be in danger but I am concerned and uninclined to allow her to depart on her own, even should the chirurgeons allow it before this letter reaches you. The highlands are treacherous, the aether even more so, and she has no other means of departure._  
>    
>  _Sincerely,_  
>    
>  _Ser Haurchefant Greystone of House Fortemps_  
>  _Commander of Dragonhead_

  
Satisfied that his words conveyed an appropriate amount of urgency and enough information to not cause a panic, Haurchefant quickly rolled the parchment, bound it with a strip of leather to protect it as it traveled, and sealed it with his official wax stamp. He stood from his desk and left the hall to find Corentiaux and, hopefully, the courier. He did not have to go far. Rather, he did not even have to leave the doorway before he spotted his subordinate returning with…a moogle?  
  
Haurchefant couldn’t keep his apprehension from showing. This was hardly protocol. Or proper. He’d glimpsed moogles on numerous occasions following the calamity, delivering letters and parcels, and had ordered his men and women to let the creatures be as they were only couriers. Though to his knowledge, the little buggers weren’t known for coming on request when they didn’t already have something to deliver to you in person. He himself had neither sent nor received anything via this new moogle post, however, and did not know how truly reliable it was.  
  
“Sir,” Corentiaux said before he could protest, “I know what you’re thinking, but…um…what is your name again?”  
  
“Kupni!”  
  
He nodded. “Kupni has volunteered to deliver the letter.”  
  
Haurchefant raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps you could explain…why you thought it wise to appraise a moogle of the situation?”

“Oh, he didn’t! Bobby told me what happened, kupo!” the moogle cut in before either knight could say more. “We moogles owe the Warrior of Light for slaying King Moggle Mog, may he rest in peace. It would be my honor to help her!” She bobbed up and down in the air, curling her little arm and dipping her head forward in a manner Haurchefant took to equal a bow. “I’m as fast as any chocobo and three, no, _four_ times as clever any knight, kupo!”  
  
Haurchefant and Corentiaux exchanged quick looks, the latter trying quite hard to smother his laughter. Kupni flew up to Haurchefant’s eyelevel, fumbling under the weight of her bag, and pushed the oversized hat away from her eyes. “Where am I bound, elezen knight?”  
  
He sighed. Clearly the moogle was determined and given the route the courier would have to take on chocobo back, even if the moogle’s claims of speed were exaggerated, she likely would reach Mor Dhona faster than any knight he could send with her ability to go over the mountains and wastelands rather than through them. She also had the added bonus of being a target to neither dragon nor heretic.  
  
“To Revenant’s Toll, the Rising Stones,” Haurchefant replied. Kupni nodded, pushed the hat away from her eyes once more, and held out both her paws. “Place the letter in the hands of Miss Tataru Taru and no other. Do you know her?”  
  
“What sorta backwoods moogle do you take me for, kupo?! _Every_ moogle who’s _any_ moogle knows Tataru. I’ll have it to her in two shakes of a pom, come all the hells and the horde itself, mark my words, kupo!”  
  
“Consider them marked,” Haurchefant said seriously. Kupni did her funny little bow again, tucked the letter in her messenger bag, and flew off with far more speed than Haurchefant had expected. Mayhap there was something to her claims…or, well, some of them.  
  
“Sir…do you know anyone by the name of Bobby?” Corentiaux asked when the moogle was out of earshot.  
  
“That would be the Warrior of Light’s chocobo.”  
  
“…Ah.”  
  
“Lord Haurchefant!”  
  
Haurchefant looked around at the sound of his name and after a moment spotted his cousin, Ninne, hurrying towards him from the direction of the infirmary where she spent most of her time.  
  
“Have you any news on our guest?” he asked.  
  
“She’s awake,” she informed him with a smile. “And she’s asking for you.”  
  
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Corentiaux commented.  
  
Leaving his subordinate behind, Haurchefant followed Ninne back to the building which housed their infirmary. It was rather small but they were fortunate enough to not have great need of it in recent years. Despite Providence Point having long been held by the enemy, they had never seemed inclined to utilize it for an assault, likely since it was on the opposite side of Ishgard from their own country. Illness, minor day-to-day injuries, and wounds from small battles with heretics tended to be the only fare the chirurgeons here saw. The Warrior of Light’s arrival was probably the most interesting that had happened in the last moon for them.  
  
Ninne left him in the doorway, disappearing into one of the rooms on the first floor, and Haurchefant climbed the stairs to the infirmary. One of the chirurgeons pointed him in the direction of their smaller ward, where he could hear the voice of the hyur who’d come to fetch the Warrior after her fall.  
  
“—will keep it immobilized for at least a day or so.”  
  
“I’ve had worse. Just use some more Cures on it, I’ll be fine.” Her tone was frustrated but it’d been weeks since he’d heard that voice and the utter relief and joy it sparked inside of him nearly brought a smile to his face. He was hardly stingy with his smiles but there were few things in this world that made him want to smile as her voice, with its peculiar lilt and charm, did.  
  
“All things considering, madam, I think it best if you were more than fine before you leave my care.”  
  
Haurchefant rounded the corner and his eyes immediately found his friend sitting upright in the lone bed in the room. Her leather armor was gone and she wore only her underthings from the waist up. Her left arm was in a sling and they’d wrapped a bandage around her head. He hadn’t seen any blood when he was by her side, but he really hadn’t been looking at the ground once they’d lifted her from it.  
  
The chirurgeon, alerted to his arrival from the sounds of his armor, turned to face him. “Ah, my lord! Full glad am I that you’ve come. Mayhap you can get an answer out of her.” He stepped away from the bed and motioned to the adventurer who had let out an undignified squeak upon noticing him there and yanked the blanket up to cover herself.  
  
Haurchefant immediately turned his back to her and cleared his throat. “I believe you overestimate mine abilities. Though perhaps you ought to furnish her with a shirt before I attempt.”  
  
“Of course,” the chirurgeon replied. “I was about to do just that.” Haurchefant listened to the man walk about the room for a few moments then he returned to the bed. “Here. I fear the majority of our patients are Elezen men so it might be a touch big on you but…”  
  
“It’s fine,” the Warrior murmured. A few moments passed in which the only sounds were the rustling of clothing and a quiet grunt of pain from her. Then, “Alright, ‘m decent.”  
  
Haurchefant exhaled and turned once more to face her…and immediately had to fight the urge to laugh. The shirt provided was a loose, long-sleeved, white tunic that was far too big for her. One of her arms wasn’t even in a sleeve and the one that was had been rolled up at least twice. He sighed, shaking his head. “You poor thing. Now, what’s this about getting answers?”  
  
She glanced at him and then looked away…almost guiltily, he’d say, if he didn’t know any better.  
  
“She’s done little but insist on speaking with you since she came to five minutes hence,” the chirurgeon explained with a disapproving frown. “I will not be releasing her until I am certain she is no danger of collapsing as she did before. And as I’ve told her, after the stories I’ve heard from my patients, there is little which will shock me. Or bring me to judge her. But if she’s more willing to explain herself to you than to me, that’s fine. So long as I receive some manner of explanation before the day is done.”  
  
Haurchefant raised his eyebrows at her, utterly confused, but willing to agree to this arrangement if she was. “Very well,” he said.  
  
“Excellent,” the chirurgeon replied. “I shall take my leave for the moment.”  
  
“No,” the warrior said softly. “I must speak with him alone.”  
  
“And I am giving you privacy—”  
  
“No, _alone_ as—”  
  
“I believe,” Haurchefant interrupted, “she means where we will not be overheard, correct?”  
  
The Warrior of Light nodded and the chirurgeon made an exasperated noise. “You. Are. Injured,” he said vehemently. “I cannot allow—”  
  
“I came here for a reason!” she shot back, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I must speak with him alone…and then I’ll come back, I’ll stay in this bed, let you fuss over me till I’m fit to fight a dragon. But first, please, you gotta let me talk to him.”  
  
The chirurgeon looked at Haurchefant, deliberating, but he’d heard enough. “I’m afraid I must insist as well,” he said, “given recent events. If she has sensitive information, then secrecy is as essential as time. Fear not, I shall personally see to her safety, and that she returns once we are finished. I, too, have no intentions of allowing her to depart any time soon.”  
  
Something like betrayal flittered across her face.    
  
The chirurgeon resisted but a moment longer before exhaling. “Very well. But do try to return within a bell. She has a concussion and must be kept under careful observation for the next day or so.”  
  
“Of course.” Haurchefant held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”  
  
She accepted his hand with her free one and he carefully pulled her to her feet, leading her from the room. They took the stairs slowly, his offer to carry her being shot down immediately and with a disgruntled look, but every step or so she would let out a small burst of air through her nose. She had to be in pain after a fall like that and like as not, there were bandages on her he couldn’t see. Whatever news she’d brought must have been dire indeed.  
  
“Where are we going?” she puffed as they neared the bottom step.  
  
“To the intercessory,” he replied and she nodded.  
  
He was keenly aware of the eyes on them as he helped her across camp, the commander with his arm securely around the bandaged, slow-moving Warrior of Light, but kept his gaze firmly on her and the path ahead, lest she collapse again. This concern he was feeling was…strange. He cared for her, of course, and it was only natural for one to be anxious when someone they cared for was injured. But then, he had never seen her this vulnerable. She had always been as a stone wall, resilient and steadfast. Even when she had first arrived in his hall, cold and weary and, in hindsight, heartsick, there had been something about her that warned all who beheld her that she was a force of nature.  
  
There was little of that in the battered young woman all but limping across camp.  
  
“Did you injure your leg?” he queried softly, noticing that her gait had become unsteady.  
  
“Bruised my hip in the fall, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’ve had worse in scuffles.”  
  
He sighed softly. “Would that you had been able to brief me in the infirmary.”  
  
“The walls have ears,” she grunted as they neared the intercessory. “And I only trust yours.”  
  
He held open the door for her and quickly ushered her inside, shutting the door behind them. She hobbled over to the table and collapsed into the chair, her exhale betraying her exhaustion. He took the chair adjacent to her own and folded his arms on the table. She glanced at him through lidded eyes and sighed.  
  
“Forgive me,” she murmured.  
  
“I was not aware you had done aught which needed forgiving,” he argued, and she shook her head.  
  
“But I have. I have caused you undue worry and your people unnecessary work. But I could think of nothing in that moment that would allow me to speak with you without arousing suspicion.” She opened her eyes fully then and sat up. “I was faking it. Well, not all of it. I am hurt and what you saw before I…well, before I came back to myself on the ground, that’s all real. But I didn’t faint.”  
  
Haurchefant sat up straight and for the first time in a long time, he found himself genuinely frowning at her. “I trust you have a reason for such…an elaborate deception?”  
  
“Not elaborate but…yes, necessary. I…” she worried her bottom lip in her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, sod it. What do you know of the Echo?”  
  
“It…is a power that you and some other individuals possess,” he said slowly, “though you are the only one I can claim to know personally. It grants you some manner of abilities and allows you to be immune to primal influence.”  
  
“That’s the gist of it,” she confirmed with a nod and leaned forward. “It manifests a little differently in everyone though there are some shared traits, like the resistance to primal influence. Then there’s things like… Minfillia described it as the ability to understand anyone regardless of their race or language.”  
        
“ _Really_?” Haurchefant asked, intrigued. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he could not resist testing her claim. Ishgardians had two languages, the tongue of their ancestors and the common tongue which was spoken across the land and allowed for Eorzeans to communicate through their language barriers. And, if the Warrior’s claims were to be believed, it was used around the world as well. As a son of House Fortemps, Haurchefant was expected to speak both fluently, and was further educated to understand basic phrases in the tongues of all the other city-states, including Ala Mhigan and Sharlayan. He had always spoken the common tongue with her, as was custom for travelers, and he could not recall if he’d ever seen her react to something said in the Ishgardian tongue before.  
  
“All…languages?” he asked in Ishgardian. She nodded, giving no indication that she’d even noticed the change. “What language do you hear in?”  
  
“Mine own,” she replied.  
  
“By the Fury,” he murmured, practically giddy at this discovery. What an amazing ability! Would that he had been graced with such a thing. “And you cannot tell the difference in languages?”  
  
She shook her head and then her lips curled upwards in amusement. “You switched on me, didn’t you?”  
  
“I did,” he agreed, still in Ishgardian. “But, forgive me, we have more pressing matters. We shall indulge more in this conversation later.”  
  
“Of course. I…” She hesitated, glancing down at the table nervously. “Through the Echo, I am able to experience people’s memories. Not through their eyes but as if I were in the room with them, though I can do nothing to influence events, nor am I ever seen. I simply…watch.” She swallowed thickly and Haurchefant chose to remain silent. “I have no control over it at all. It just…happens. Though it has never happened without good cause. The memories I see are always important, sometimes enlightening me to events I missed. For better or worse,” she added bitterly then looked up at him once more. “When I entered the camp earlier, the Echo took hold. I must’ve lost my balance. Believe you me, it was quite a shock coming to on the ground in pain with you looking at me like I’d died.”  
  
“And the sight of you on the ground like that is not something I’ll soon forget,” he replied grimly. “It was…somewhat disturbing.”  She cocked her head curiously. “Your eyes were open, moving even, yet you did not see us or hear us calling to you.”  
  
“Aah. Yeah that—that’s normal. I’m sorry. I’ve been told my eyes are usually closed when I’m seeing through the Echo. They must’ve opened when I fell or something.” She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry you had to see that but…not as sorry as I am to have to tell you this.” She lowered her arms to the table and sighed.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You know I am honest, Haurchefant. You know I have no reason to lie to you. You know what I think of your people’s fanaticism…or you at least have some inkling.” She stared at him, eyes beseeching. “You know I have absolutely nothing to gain by making accusations against anyone.”  
  
Haurchefant shook his head. “Of course, I do. I have trusted you with my life and those of my friends, kin, and countrymen. Say what you need, my dear, and I shall give your words all due consideration.”  
  
Sucking in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. “There’s a traitor in Camp Dragonhead. A…heretic.”  
  
Haurchefant inhaled through his nose and sat back in his chair. Part of him wanted to reject her words outright. Men and women in service to House Fortemps had ever been devout and loyal. He placed great faith in those in his family’s service and there had not been a solid conviction of heresy against one of their own in decades. There had been defectors but there was little evidence to indicate any had joined hands with the heretics and not simply sought life beyond Coerthan borders. That one such man or woman now lived within his walls was hard to stomach. But…she was honest, she had nothing to gain by making this claim, nor did she have any cause to accuse someone of heresy. She herself had witnessed the potential ramifications and had been utterly disgusted.  
  
“You took…a bad fall today,” he said slowly, though he wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to convince. “You hit your head pretty hard. Perhaps—”  
  
She shook her head. “No, no I swear to you—my head’s not been addled. The vision started before I fell—it’s what caused me to fall. What I saw was as real as any other time and I never fell during them.”  
  
He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Very well. Continue.”  
  
She nodded, relieved. “There were two men. One was a common man and the other a soldier. There were no indicators of his house affiliation, but I know I have seen him about this camp. He must’ve been nearby when I arrived for me to have seen into his past like this. I gleaned from their conversation that this took place sometime after we slew Svara. They believed because she was dead that you would not consider the remnants of her brood a significant threat. They’re going to use that against you.”  
  
Haurchefant swore internally. He’d been all but overlooking the reports of Dravanian activity over there, hadn’t he? “How?” he asked.  
  
“They’re going to overrun you from the northwest. The soldier is a sleeper, meant to lie in wait until the time comes, then attack you from within and during the chaos, the outside forces will mount an attack. It’s an age-old strategy…and they gave him a bottle of…something. They didn’t say what it was, only that…” She paused, head cocked. “It was meant to make him stronger.”  
  
Haurchefant was quiet for a long minute, considering the implications and potential repercussions of her words, the reports of Dravanian activity in Providence Point, and racking his brain to think of anything about his soldiers that he may have missed. Any signs of deception or treason. But there were simply too many of them and too many memories and no way for him to sort through them without even an inkling as to who to focus on.  
  
“Are you certain?” he asked, knowing before she nodded that she was. She would not have gone through so much trouble, faking the severity of her injuries and insisting on coming here to solitude, if she were not. “Then we have a serious problem. First and foremost, you are an outsider and an unbeliever, and no inquisitor or the Holy See will accept your word as proof, nor your visions as evidence against one of our own. Please, don’t look at me so, I mean no disrespect to you, that is simply the way of things. If you say this man is a traitor then I believe you but until such a time as we discover concrete evidence as to his guilt, I cannot make any accusations against him. Especially until we know the exact identity of this man for if he is of a house of standing, I fear speaking out will only bring harm on my house.”  
  
“Even though you’re of one of the High Houses? Doesn’t that mean you rank higher than him all across the board?”  
  
Haurchefant sighed. She still didn’t know, hadn’t an _inkling_ that he was a bastard, and the perpetual disadvantage that this status gave him in many situations. He’d pondered before if she knew or not, certain interactions and words causing him to linger in indecisiveness, yet once more he was certain she did not know. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was ashamed of his status and yet…it was such a _relief_ to have one person in his life that he cared for who didn’t know. Who didn’t look down on, or worse, pity him. What would she say, if she knew?  
  
“Not so much as you’d think,” he answered instead.  
  
She scoffed. “Unbelievable. They were gonna toss Lord Francel off a bloody cliff for less.”  
  
“ _They_ were heretics,” he reminded her, “posing as men of influence. The false Inquisitor was able to murder so easily because his disguise gave him the power to do so. I am sure you understand that the Holy See is taking claims of heresy with a grain or two of salt at present, even from a High House.”  
  
“Well then what can we do?!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. She realized her mistake instantly and Haurchefant lurched forward as her eyes flipped wide. The borrowed tunic she wore had stopped her from raising her arm too high and potentially harming her wounded shoulder but the movement alone had been too much. A high-pitched whine slipped through her clenched teeth as she lowered her arm, gripping her wounded shoulder with her other hand. She may have faked fainting but her other wounds were genuine.  
  
“Are you alright?” he fretted, wanting to ease her pain but unsure how. She nodded quickly and huffed. “I should return you to the infirmary—”  
  
“No!” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. This is nothing compared to what’ll happen to your people if that heretic goes berserk in the middle of camp!”  
  
Haurchefant froze. “If he what?”  
  
“I—forgive me, I did not explain clearly. He’s meant to lie in wait, right? Attack you from within so you’re unprepared when the attack comes from the outside. And they gave him a bottle of something to drink—which, he didn’t in the vision, but it’s probably safe to assume he has by now—that would make him stronger. Merely one drop was sufficient, the man said, but the more he drank, the stronger he’d be. Now, the vial itself wasn’t very big but…it was big enough.”  
  
He shook his head slowly. “It is known that heretics employ Dravanian magics and talismans to further their own ends yet, to my knowledge, there is no record of them utilizing such enhancements. If the heretics have added a singularly gifted alchemist to their ranks, to say this bodes ill would be an understatement.”  
  
“And you will need him in chains to learn who and how.”  
  
She had a point, Haurchefant conceded with a sigh, and sat back in his chair. “You are correct. However, without proof, we can do naught but react when the time comes lest we risk informing this traitor that we are on to him. You said you knew his face, did you not?” She nodded. “And if you saw him again, could you identify him?” She nodded. “Well, then, that gives us a place to start. I should like to fetch a few of mine officers…can you confirm this man was not one of them?”  
  
“I don’t think he was, no. He didn’t have that look about him.”  
  
Haurchefant nodded once. That was a relief. He didn’t know what he’d do if it were one of his most trusted men and women lying in wait. He rose from the chair. He bade the Warrior remain where she was and left the intercessory to locate Corentiaux and Eveline. The former was in the main hall attempting to deal with some of the paperwork that Haurchefant had abandoned and gave him a look of utter exasperation when he called him from his task. Eveline he found near the kitchens nursing a cup of warm tea on her break. He warned them to be quiet and lead them back to the intercessory.  
  
The Warrior of Light had relocated closer to the fire and she turned in her chair when they entered the room. Haurchefant pulled the door shut behind them and locked it.  
  
“You’re looking well,” Corentiaux noted. The Warrior of Light smiled slightly. “Though I am surprised to see you up and about, all things considering. How in the Fury’s name did you get her out of the infirmary?”  
  
“That is why you’re both here,” Haurchefant said and motioned to the table in the center of the room. “Sit.”  
  
This time he took his place in the large chair while the others sat across from him. The Warrior returned from the fireplace, trying and failing to hide the slight limp in her step. He waited until she was seated and then nodded once. “The Warrior of Light is in possession of a talent known as the Echo, which, among other things, allows her to, on occasion, glimpse the memories of another. It was one such vision that caused her to fall from her chocobo.”  
  
Eveline and Corentiaux regarded her with interest, the former tilting her head to the side. “Seems dangerous for you to be riding, then.”  
  
The Warrior shook her head. “It’s never happened while I was riding before.”  
  
Eveline shrugged. “What did you see in this…vision of yours?”  
  
“Tell them exactly what you told me,” Haurchefant added.  
  
The Warrior exhaled softly then launched into the tale of her vision once more, sparing not a single detail, and reassuring them vehemently that it had been the cause of the fall, not an effect. When she was finished, both of them remained silent with grave looks on their faces. Eveline propped one elbow on the desk and pressed her mouth to her fist. Corentiaux shook his head slowly.  
  
“You believe her, my lord?” he asked. Haurchefant nodded firmly. “Very well. What are we to do?”  
  
“That is precisely why I have summoned you both,” Haurchefant replied. “She believes she will be able to identify the man on sight, we need only provide her an opportunity to do so without arousing suspicion. However, as we all know, her word will amount to naught in the eyes of the Holy See. We will need to acquire some concrete evidence as to his guilt if we wish to see justice done. If he is highborn then failing to do so could backfire in a way House Fortemps neither needs nor wants.”  
  
Eveline nodded. “Understood, my lord. Was there any indication in this vision of when the heretic’s plan will be put into motion?”  
  
The Warrior of Light shook her head.  
  
“Then we ought to assume it could happen at any time. We must work quickly.”  
  
Corentiaux folded his arms. “I believe mealtimes would be best. Everyone comes, everyone goes. She would be able to observe without drawing attention to herself.”  
  
“When is the next meal?” the Warrior asked but Haurchefant shook his head immediately.  
  
“No, you must return to the infirmary. You can scarcely walk as it is.”  
  
She scoffed. “I’m _fine_. When’s the next meal?”  
  
“Supper, a few bells hence,” Eveline replied. “I agree, my lord. Never mind the impending attack, we have a heretic amongst us with the tools and desire to slaughter our brothers and sisters whenever he chooses. I would see him bound in chains ere the moon rises were not for the task of proving his guilt.”  
  
“As would I,” Haurchefant said, hoping to placate her. Eveline was fiercely loyal and the strength of her convictions and dedication to House Fortemps were even stronger. He had anticipated her not taking this well and was counting on her temper to push for action. Just not…too much action. “But I also would also not risk the wrath of the chirurgeons, or her health in the process.”  
  
“I am fine,” the Warrior insisted firmly. “A few Cure spells and a bell’s rest and I’ll be in fighting condition anon. Even if I wasn’t, your people’s lives are at stake and I’ve fought primals while suffering from worse.”  
  
Haurchefant frowned, not liking this at all, but he could not help but admire her resolve. Forcing her to obey would win him no favors and could cost lives so, with a heavy sigh, he surrendered. “Very well. I shall speak with your chirurgeon upon our return and see to it that you are permitted to attend supper. You will observe the knights as they come and go and inform me the instant you identify him.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Though you must have care to not alert him to your intentions,” Corentiaux warned. “The dining hall is small and underground. Were he to feel threatened, it could easily turn into a massacre.”  
  
“Many do not take their swords to supper,” Eveline added for the Warrior’s benefit. “And with no means of escape other than the one door…”  
  
The Warrior nodded with a grimace. Haurchefant mirrored her expression. A massacre, indeed. “Very well. It would also be unwise to confront him without the full support of the remaining officers and, of course, the Lady Inquisitor.”  
  
“I have an idea, my lord,” Corentiaux said and Haurchefant motioned for him to proceed. “After we learn the man’s identity, we use tonight to brief the rest of the officers and senior knights. During breakfast, we have his possessions searched, then summon him to the main hall.”  
  
“Where we levy the charges before the Inquisitor and, if necessary, eliminate him without risking a slaughter,” Haurchefant finished, nodding. “Yet what if there is no damning evidence to be found amongst his possessions? As I told her earlier, in the past we have relied on the presence of rosaries and the like to confirm treachery. If our heretic needed only consume a small amount of liquid ahead of time, it’s safe to say he will have already disposed of any evidence thereof.”  
  
No one spoke. Corentiaux pressed his lips together in concentration and Eveline leaned back in her chair. Haurchefant wracked his brain. What _could_ they do? Waiting for him to attack was simply not an option, for by then it would be too late to halt the outside attack. Men and women would die and it could ruin everything he had worked so hard to accomplish, both for himself and the camp as a whole. He could not allow it.  
  
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” the Warrior of Light uttered in a strange tone he had never heard her use. Quiet, flat, and vaguely unsettling. “Send him out to deliver a message to one of the other Houses or something. On the way, he has an accident.” She glanced at them. “Or an unfortunate incident with the local wildlife.”  
  
“You propose we simply kill him?” Corentiaux demanded. “Without evidence or fair trial?”  
  
“We already have evidence,” Eveline said, “and were she Ishgardian, it would be enough to launch a full investigation.”  
  
“Eorzean law enforcement groups do it all the time,” the Warrior of Light added. “You’ll be hard-pressed to find any seasoned adventurer who hasn’t at least been asked to take care of someone outside of the law for one reason or another. So, it’s far from unheard of.”  
  
“And without physical evidence to present to the inquisitor, we cannot accuse him. But if we wait for him to reveal himself, we face devastating losses.” Eveline glared at Corentiaux. “Or do you want those deaths on our heads? Because make no mistake, if we do nothing, then they will be.”  
  
“Of course, I don’t!” he retorted. “I also do not want to set such a precedent for dealing with heretics!”  
  
Haurchefant steepled his fingers and pressed them against his mouth while they continued to snap back and forth. Each of them was making quite valid points but the reality of the situation was that there was no easily solution. Halone willing, they would find evidence in their search, but if not…  
  
The Warrior of Light’s eyes bore into him as sharp as spears and he could not help but meet her gaze. Something passed between them in that moment, an understanding that went far beyond what words could convey. He knew where she was coming from, how she must view the situation, and exactly what she, as a ‘seasoned adventurer’ was offering them. He dipped his head, as did she.  
  
“Corentiaux, Eveline,” he said, halting their argument. He lowered his hands to the desk. “I brought you here not only because I trust you both with my life but because I value your insights and judgement. Neither of you is wrong in anything you have said…and the truth of the matter is that these circumstances do not allow for simple black and white. We must act yet what she has suggested is hardly our way. It requires we set aside the values of our justice system, but it directly solves the problem this heretic presents. The situation is without precedent and therefore it stands to reason the solution must needs be as well. By the Fury’s grace, we may yet not have need of a secondary course of action…but should it come to that…” He looked at the Warrior of Light again.  
  
“You would order one of your own men killed?” Corentiaux asked.  
  
“But he is not one of mine, is he?” Haurchefant mused.  
  
“You would condemn someone to death on the word of an outsider?!”  
  
“Men and women have been condemned on naught but words for the past thousand years,” Eveline reminded them darkly.  
  
Corentiaux sputtered for a moment. “On the words of inquisitors and holy knights! My lord, do you really intend—”  
  
“If it would protect those under my command and beyond then yes!” Haurchefant snapped, cutting him off. He drew himself up and looked between the three of them sternly. “Though it is my sincere hope we are able to uncover proof of his guilt, should it become necessary, I will consider such alternative solutions. …If only for the sake of the innocents who will die if I do not.”  
  
Corentiaux dipped his head and said nothing more. The Warrior, on the other hand, seemed relieved. Odd, considering he just announced he would consider sending her off to murder for them, though perhaps she was more relieved he’d agreed to act than anything else.  
  
“Dragonhead is too important to be allowed to fall into Dravanian hands,” he went on quietly, but no less empathetically. “You know we must do whatever is necessary to protect it.”  
  
Corentiaux nodded.    
   
“We ought to see to it that this man, when we learn his identity, is not on watch tonight,” Eveline suggested grimly.  
  
“I agree. I shall also have a guard posted outside the infirmary.” He looked at the Warrior, who looked mildly offended at the implications. “It has been some time since you last felled Lady Iceheart but even longer since you stayed with us. If proximity to the individual is what triggers a vision, then it’s likely the man himself witnessed your fall and the subsequent…debacle. He knows you’re injured, he knows you’re weak, and he may see this as an opportunity to avenge Iceheart and rid of us of one of our most powerful allies.”  
  
By the time he finished, she no longer seemed ready to argue, the Fury be praised, and instead nodded once.  
  
“Very well. Then we are all in agreement?” The Warrior and Eveline nodded. After a pause, Corentiaux did as well, and closed his eyes. “Excellent. You may return to your duties and, pray, speak not a word of this to anyone. Though before you do, Corentiaux, are there any adventurers on the premises that I am not aware of?”  
  
“Other than those two men in the courtyard, I do not believe so, my lord,” the Elezen knight replied as Eveline departed.  
  
“Have them sent on their way and inform the guards that they are to turn away any who should come looking for work. Those who wish to pass through may do so, but we will be offering neither work nor shelter until this matter is resolved. Convey this however you see fit.”  
  
Corentiaux stood and saluted. “At once, my lord.” He headed for the door but then paused, and turned to face them once more. “If I may, I do not think it wise to tell anyone else that the basis of this accusation is from a vision. Such claims would be difficult to believe even from one who had not recently taken a blow to the head. You must needs devise another way in which she overheard this discussion.”  
  
Haurchefant nodded. “A wise suggestion. Thank you.”  
  
The knight dipped his head and left.  
  
“Why would you order such a thing?” the adventurer asked. “Turning someone away out here could kill them.”  
  
“I am aware of this,” Haurchefant replied, “however, given what we are about to do, I would prefer we have minimal outside interference.”  
  
 “I suppose you know best,” she mumbled but did not seem satisfied by this answer. He could see where she was coming from. As someone who was used to depending on the courtesies of others for food and shelter, naturally she would not look contently upon a decision to close a place of refuge, even if only for a short time. And turning away someone who came stumbling upon their gates in the night could prove to be akin to an act of murder but, as much as it pained him, he had to put his people first. He was their commander. He owed it to them. He just hoped she would understand that.  
  
“Come,” he said gently, “we should return you to the infirmary. You, at least, shall have a warm bed for the night.”  
  
A strange expression flittered across her face. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was wistful.  
  
He helped her to her feet and they left the intercessory. He wished he could carry her but knew she would not appreciate any further implications that she was an invalid. The trek was as slow as before, slower perhaps, but she did not complain once, even though her limp had returned by the time they pushed open the doors to the building which housed the infirmary. They paused at the base of the stairs and he took one look at the slight grimace on her face as she stared upwards then muttered an apology and carefully lifted her off the ground.  
  
Bridal style, he believed it was called in the common tongue.  
  
She accepted his help with naught so much as a grumble of protest and he carried her back up to the infirmary. Fortunately, none of the chirurgeons were around when they reached the top and he quickly put her down before someone saw. If there was any chance of her being allowed to attend dinner, she must seem as hale as possible.  
  
“I think,” she puffed as they neared the door to her room, “I may need another Cure spell after all that.”  
  
Haurchefant frowned. He was grateful for the information she’d provided but he hated seeing her in pain. Even after her battle with Shiva when she had returned to camp a bit worse for the wear, she had not asked for any medical attention. The pain must’ve been considerable for her to voice such a thing. He’d taken more than his fair share of falls from birdback but he’d always been able to catch himself or brace for impact to at least some degree. Lost as she’d been in the throes of her vision, she would not have been able to protect herself at all and must have landed quite poorly. Having all of one’s weight land on only one or two spots could cause significant pain. Honestly, it was a miracle she hadn’t broken anything.  
  
He helped her back into her bed, setting her discarded shoes aside out of the way, and urged her to lie down. She sank into the pillow with a quiet sigh of relief and he smiled as he pulled the blankets up to her chest.  
  
“I haven’t had a proper bed in days,” she sighed.  
  
He chuckled and brought the chair from the nearby desk to her bedside. “That reminds me, I have not asked what brought you to us.”  
  
Her expression tightened and she looked away from him. “Seeking shelter.”  
  
Haurchefant sighed. “I am sorry my decision has upset you but in times like this, I must put my people first.”  
  
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I have no idea what it’s like to be in your position and no right to judge.”  
  
He smiled weakly. “Come now, you did not come all this way merely to spend the night. What brings you to Coerthas?”  
  
She exhaled slowly and shifted around on the mattress. “The Lord of Levin returned to the Black Shroud, and I was dispatched to deal with him.”  
  
Haurchefant tutted softly. Another primal. “I take it from the lack of singed hair that it went reasonably well?”  
  
She shrugged. “Reasonably. Every time is harder than the last though. And after, I…well, I didn’t feel like teleporting back to the Rising Stones. Wanted a few days to myself so I decided to take the long way home and when I arrived in Coerthas…well…” She trailed off, color appearing her cheeks, and she suddenly seemed quite interested in the walls.  
  
He smiled knowingly. “And you thought to come and visit me. I’m honored.” She glanced at him and the corners of her lips twitched upwards. He winked. “Tis a pity you ended up here. Perhaps later, after this business is settled, we can have a proper chat over some hot cocoa. I should love to hear what you’ve been up to since we saw each other last.”  
  
“I would like that,” she murmured.    
  
“In the meantime, rest, recuperate. Though, should you find this bed not to your liking, the one in my chambers is far more comfortable. You need only say the world and I’m sure I can convince your chirurgeon to let—”  
  
“You will do no such thing, my lord,” the aforementioned chirurgeon interrupted briskly as he strode into the room, eyes narrowed, and exuding disapproval.    
  
Haurchefant cleared his throat and stood quickly, feeling rather like a boy caught in some mischievous act. “She is returned, as promised. Though I fear the trip proved to be somewhat taxing on her. She requested another round of magic on the way.”  
  
The chirurgeon’s attention immediately switched to his patient, much to Haurchefant’s relief, and he moved out of the man’s way so he could examine her. “I hope your discussion was worth it,” he muttered.  
  
Haurchefant nodded. “Quite so. Oh, before I forget, I must ask that you keep that bit of information to yourself.”  
  
The hyur quirked an eyebrow at him. “My lord, I do not think there’s soul in this camp who doesn’t know that—”  
  
“No,” he interrupted quickly, glancing quickly at the Warrior of Light, whose cheeks were bright red with embarrassment. “We shall speak after you are finished.”  
  
The chirurgeon furrowed his brow but nodded once and returned to his patient. Without another word, he held his hands over her body, one at her shoulder and the other at her hip, and they began to glow with the pale warmth of healing magic. Low grade, Haurchefant would guess, from the intensity of the glow, or rather, the lack thereof. The Warrior noticed as well.  
  
“Can’t you just cast a stronger one?” she all but whined.  
  
“No,” the hyur rebuked her sharply. “High-strength spells should only be cast when necessary. Too many can have a permanent impact on the body, and not in ways that are necessarily beneficial. I imagine you are exposed to them enough in your line of work, I won’t add to it. Our bodies heal well enough on their own, tis far better to use a lesser spell to simply help it along rather than force it to mend and repair abnormally fast.” He gave her a pointed frown. “Or does the conjurer’s guild not teach the lessons learned from the fall of Amdapor?”  
  
The Warrior scowled and seemed ready protest, but the chirurgeon lowered his hands and spoke before she could. “I can tell from your aura that you have studied conjury to some extent, but that does not make you a healer. I am a healer first and conjurer second. Please, trust that I am doing what I believe to be best for your health and recovery.”  
  
Her eyes bore into the chirurgeon’s for a long, tense moment, then flicked briefly to Haurchefant before closing. She nodded.  
  
“Thank you,” the chirurgeon said and stood from the chair, pulling the blankets back over her body. “Rest a while and give the magic time to work on your body in peace.”  
  
She nodded once more. Satisfied, the chirurgeon turned to Haurchefant and motioned for him to follow. Haurchefant eyed the Warrior for a moment longer but she was already snuggling down into her pillow and he departed without another word.  
  
The chirurgeon awaited him across the hall, arms folded. “Forgive mine earlier rudeness, Commander, but I must ask you maintain _some_ decorum so long as she is my patient.”  
  
“Of course, and t’was only a jest,” Haurchefant placated. “I would not even consider removing her from your care. Furthermore, a guard will be posted upon the ward tonight.”  
  
“A guard, my lord?”  
  
“Her life may be in danger. T’was why she came to us. And now that she is vulnerable, the situation is even more grave.”  
  
The chirurgeon nodded.  
  
“I also must ask that you escort her to dinner tonight rather than having food delivered. Do not concern yourself as to why, simply see to it that she arrives, alert and in as much comfort as possible.”  
  
He eyed him dubiously. “…Very well. I assume this is the matter I am to keep quiet on?”  
  
“And the nature of her visit as well.”  
  
The chirurgeon dipped his head. “As you command.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends are still enablers and there's a lot more coming.


	2. Scions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good afternoon, Lord Haurchefant,” the miqo’te greeted, dipping into a polite bow. “I am Y’shtola of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We received your message…though I was not aware Ishgard employed moogles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be part of the first chapter....oops.

When he sent word to the Scions, Haurchefant had expected it would be Master Alphinaud who would make an appearance, flustered and concerned but with valuable insight. So when a white-haired miqo’te woman strode into the main hall without escort, Haurchefant’s first thought was that that the sentries had neglected their duties and let an adventurer in. Then he looked closer.

She wore a long-sleeved white blouse with silver adornments, blue trousers, and peculiar boots which were not at all suited for traipsing through the snows. On her hip was a simple conjurer’s wand, as unassuming as she was at first glance. But Haurchefant could practically feel the power emanating from her as she approached and all in the room eyed her warily, though none moved to stop her.

Yet there was something about her face, in her bright green eyes, that brokered trust on its own. As did the set of peculiar but not entirely unknown pair of red runes inked onto either side of her neck.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted politely.

“Good afternoon, Lord Haurchefant,” the miqo’te greeted, dipping into a polite bow. “I am Y’shtola of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We received your message…though I was not aware Ishgard employed moogles.”

He laughed softly. “Under normal circumstances, I would have sent an official courier, but little Kupni was quite insistent.”

“Aye and from the way she went on, she had half of us convinced the Warrior of Light was on her deathbed before anyone actually managed to open the letter.” Y’shtola shook her head. “Nevertheless, we thank you for sending word. Were I in your position, I, too, would have been quite concerned. Though, I take it she has since woken?”

Haurchefant nodded and rose from his chair. “Mere minutes after the moogle departed. Right this way.”

Y’shtola cocked her head but followed him without protest. Haurchefant made eye contact with Corentiaux for a moment and the other man nodded once.

“Her injuries aren’t too extensive,” he told her as they walked. “She’s currently sleeping off a round of curative spells in the infirmary. Though I should like to discuss the long-term repercussions.”

“Of course,” she replied.

He led her out of the main hall and around the corner towards the intercessory, motioning her to enter ahead of him. He glanced around the small alley briefly then entered and closed the door firmly behind them.

Y’sthola was already halfway to the hearth and Haurchefant could not help but chuckle quietly. Poor miqo’te. One would think a creature with fur, even on a few parts of their bodies, would be more suited to cold climes, yet he had never met one that did not curse about it at least once during their stay. He picked up two chairs from the table as he passed and set them down in front of the hearth.

“We shall talk here, if it suits you,” he said.

“Thank you, ser,” she replied with a smile and sat down in the nearest chair. “My duties as a Scion often keep me on Vylbrand. I’m afraid I’m more used to the warmth than the cold.”

“I understand completely, and you need not worry. Coerthas is cold but Dragonhead is blessed with many a hearth to warm you during your stay.”

Y’shtola smiled once more. “Thank you. Now, to business. If she woke, I’m sure she told you what really happened?”

“That she witnessed a vision given to her by the Echo?”

Y’shtola nodded, not at all surprised. “Your description was most enlightening and, truthfully, did much to ease our concerns. Our antecedent is also blessed by the Echo and we are familiar with what can occur when she is in the midst of a vision. I cannot claim to have seen the Warrior of Light in the same manner more than a handful of times, but it was always much the same. Though, of course, this brings me to our next concern. Visions from the Echo do not simply…happen. There is always a catalyst and the knowledge received is always vital in some way to the one who received it.”

“You wish to know what she saw,” Haurchefant guessed.

“Did she tell you?”

“Indeed. She saw evidence of a traitor, a heretical sleeper amongst my ranks,” he informed her and her eyes widened. “She took care to explain the nature of her gifts to me beforehand, of course, and I believe her. A plan to deal with this has already been put into motion and the Warrior is prepared to work with us to identify the man she saw. By Halone’s grace, the issue will be resolved by tomorrow’s eve. However, in the meantime, we risk the heretic attacking at any given moment.”

Y’shtola folded her arms and tapped her knuckle against her cheek thoughtfully. “What manner of sleeper is he?”

“Well, simply put, he has been given a potion which will grant him immense strength, enough that it has made the Warrior of Light nervous, which he will use to wreak havoc within camp. At the same time, heretics and dragons alike will amount an attack from the outside. …So, it should go without saying, but as long as you remain here, I’m afraid you are in danger. I was unaware when I requested your presence, and should you wish to depart—”

The Scion fixed him with a sharp look. “I am aware I may not look like much to you, Commander, but I am a mage of singular talent, and I will not leave the Warrior of Light to fight alone.”

“Pray, forgive me, I meant no offense,” Haurchefant apologized. “If you are willing to lend us your aid then full glad am I to have it. For now, I would have you remain by her side. As the slayer of Shiva twice over, she may be in danger as she is now. The heretic may seek to exact revenge. Your presence alone may prove sufficient to deter him.”

She nodded. “Consider it done. Though I am curious as to how you intend to capture this man. I know enough of your people and your ways to know that her word will not be enough to convict him of treachery.”

“You are correct. We must needs find evidence of his treachery before bringing any accusations against him. Unfortunately, he has likely already consumed and done away with the vial she saw.”

Y’shtola’s eyes narrowed sharply. “On what grounds, ser? ‘Tis all the more likely that he yet possesses it. Such potions as the one described do, in fact exist, though difficult to make for all but the most skilled alchemists, but the effects are by no means permanent. In fact, the effect is quite short, and they cannot be consumed in great quantities without having a toxic effect on the body. Simply put, the potion would need be consumed immediately before the attack in order to work.”

Hope blossomed in Haurchefant’s chest. “Truly?”

She nodded. “Aye. You may yet still be able to locate it, either within his effects or on his person, I should suspect. …Though, I must ask, what are you planning to do if physical evidence does not present itself?”

“The Warrior of Light offered to assist us with the matter further.”

“I see.” Y’shtola folded her hands in her lap. “You trust her enough to bet a man’s life on naught but her word?”

“Do you?”

“We are in rather different positions. She and I have been through much and more. To not take her at her word would be folly. You do not share the bond that binds the Scions, nor our mission. Why do you place so much faith in her?”

Haurchefant chose his words carefully. Y’shtola was looking for something, though he knew not what or why. “House Fortemps has ever been against barring outsiders from our lands and I myself have always welcomed travelers to Camp Dragonhead with open arms. I permit my knights to delegate tasks to those who would complete them for fair compensation and I myself will occasionally do so as well. However, this does not mean I trust _them_ , only that they possess decency and a favorable work ethic. Trust must be earned and from the day she arrived on our doorstep, the Warrior of Light has done naught but prove herself worthy of such. Time and time again she has risked life and limb for not only my people, but Ishgard at large. To not take her at her word would be, as you say, folly…and would be doing her a great disservice.”

A smile spread across the miqo’te woman’s face. “Well said. Is there aught else or will you escort me to your infirmary now?”

“There is, actually. I would ask that you remain by the Warrior of Light throughout your stay. It has been some time since a Sharlayan last walked these grounds and it would be best if all believed you were merely here out of concern for your friend.”

Y’shtola nodded. “As you wish. Though, I am curious as to how you knew that I am Sharlayan.”

He rose to his feet and smiled at her. “As the son of a noble House, it is expected that I be able to recognize such things.” He tapped the side of his neck to indicate the markings on hers. “Such runes exist nowhere else in Eorzea.”

“Quite astute. The infirmary, then?”

“Right this way, _madame.”_

* * *

The Warrior of Light took one look at Y’shtola and exhaled in relief. “Oh thank gods, I thought for sure it’d be Alphinaud.”

Y’shtola laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Well, it may please you to know that he was quite concerned for you while we all thought you were in mortal peril.”

She made a face. “Why…did you think I was in mortal peril?

“The postmoogle may have overexaggerated a thing or two and incited panic throughout the Rising Stones.”

The Warrior of Light’s eyes slipped closed and opened a moment later. She blinked once, twice, then looked at Haurchefant with a peculiar expression. “A postmoogle?” she asked in a pleasant tone that he did not believe for a second.

He smiled sheepishly. “Ah, yes. She was quite insistent on delivering the letter herself and I had to concur that she would be faster than more traditional methods.” He shrugged, hoping it would appease her. It did not.

“Oh gods,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “How bad is it?”

Y'shtola grinned. “You needn't worry. Only Tataru was in hysterics.”

The Warrior groaned again and Haurchefaunt chuckled quietly.

“I shall leave you two to talk,” he said, folding his arms behind his back. Both women looked at him. “Though might I suggest you do so in a way that will _not_ be overheard, if possible.”

“Of course,” Y’shtola said smoothly and turned to her friend. What came from her mouth next was neither Ishgardian nor Eorzean Common, but an eloquent language that he recognized after a few moments to be Sharlayan. And then, to his utter amazement, the Warrior of Light replied in the same tongue without hesitation or falter, as if she had been speaking it her whole life.

Much…the way she spoke the Common.

He stood there listening to them in stunned silence for a moment longer then bowed once and took his leave.


	3. Seekers

I tossed and turned in my bed for what felt like hours that night. Magic kept what remained of my injuries blissfully numb but no spell in the world could stop the nervous clenching and churning in my gut.

I was feeling loads better by supper, especially once Y’shtola turned up and brought me the satchels containing my things from Bobby’s saddle. She helped me change into a proper shirt and snuck me another gentle cure spell when my chirurgeon, Leofric, wasn’t looking. I was hoping she’d cast something _stronger_ , but it turned out she agreed that ‘a magically stimulated recuperation is far superior to the rapid mending of high-level healing magic.’

Yeah, well, maybe if she’d been personally introduced to Titan’s fist once or twice she’d see things from my point of view.

In any case, I was steady enough on my feet to make it down to the dining hall without much help and we sat beside Haurchefant at the high table. He pulled out my chair for me like I was a lady, fetched my meal for me since one of my arms was still bound in the sling, and checked at least three times that I was alright. I will never admit to it aloud, but I rather liked having him fuss over me. It’s not often that people do, especially now that I am the Warrior of Light.   

Once men and women began trickling into the dining hall, I found the man I was searching for without difficulty and pointed him out to Haurchefant at once. We watched him get his food like all the rest and take a seat at one of the tables among his fellows, who greeted him with smiles. I watched him talking, laughing with them, like he wasn’t instrumental in the orchestration of their downfall. I felt sick, recalling the way he’d smiled at the prospect of the carnage in my vision, and yet I could not avert my eyes. 

Verdunaux de Olliard, Haurchefant had called him.

A man of a minor house which branched from Fortemps some generations past and kept enough wealth and influence among its members from its strong mercantile presence to keep them living comfortably within the Pillars. Enough that an accusation without evidence could backfire spectacularly. I was more than willing to let Ishgardian justice be served were it possible but if not, well, he would be one of the many heretics I’ve killed in Coerthas.

…No. Not quite.

Lady Iceheart’s words still linger, the accusation that I fight in a war of which I have no understanding. She’s right, in a way. I have gotten rather involved with Ishgard’s conflict and, I suppose, to her it would seem that I have placed myself firmly on the side of Ishgard, but I haven’t. Not really. I’ve done what I had to do to protect innocent life and adhere to the creed of the Scions. I would have stayed well out of the whole thing if she and hers hadn’t gone and summoned a bloody primal and deprived the Toll of its much-needed supplies. My actions thus far had been driven by my responsibilities to the Scions and the Toll. The heretics I’ve killed have been enemies of mine due their actions, not because I was an ally of Ishgard.

This…this Verdunaux…if I killed him, it would be to protect Camp Dragonhead. Because it’s commander is a dear friend of mine whom I will not let die. Because I care about the people here. Because I watched him laugh with them like he isn’t preparing to see them all slaughtered. And for what? The more I learned about this conflict, the more I wondered what the heretics hold to be true.

What _was_ it that caused these people to turn on their countrymen, their own friends and families, to live and do what they do. What _really_ motivates the dragons to continue fighting after a thousand years? I know they’re nigh on immortal but even a millennium seems like a while to keep on. 

There is someone I could ask. Someone who, I am quite certain, lingers nearby. He only shows himself when it suits him, but I’d be a fool to think he isn’t always close. Listening. Observing. I have yet to see any indication that others can hear and see him but I’m not wholly comfortable with calling to him while in the middle of Dragonhead. Even if I did…would he even tell me the truth? Something tells me that he would not. I do not know what he wants with me, nor do I know if he would side with his own kind if push came to shove, though I suspect so.

I sighed and burrowed deeper into the many blankets and quilts I’d been provided. The privacy of my room came at the cost of being located furthest from the fire that warmed this floor. At least Y’shtola had been offered a bed close to the hearth downstairs. She was wholly unaccustomed to such cold climes and I would hate to suffer on my account. …And I still couldn’t believe Haurchefant managed to take enough stock of the situation to send word to the Scions in the short time between the chirurgeons carrying me off and me ‘waking up’. I sighed once more, guiltily this time. My subterfuge had seemed necessary at the time but I must have really worried him.

No, scratch that. I’d definitely worried him. That ridiculous man had enlisted the help of a _postmoogle_ to get his letter to them quickly. A moogle that, according to Y’shtola, had flown into the Rising Stones wailing that I was on my deathbed and had poor Tataru worked up to the point of tears by the time they managed to open the letter. Thancred was never going to let me hear the end of this. I was going to have to pry Tataru off my body when I returned.

Assuming Haurchefant let me leave any time soon. I smiled, despite myself. He cared about me a great deal behind all his flirting and teasing. He had never claimed to care for me beyond friendship but sometimes I wondered…

Hah. Me and a nobleman. The girls back home would be in stiches.

My smile faded, however, as reality returned along with the churning in my gut which kept me awake.

I’ve known since I met him that Haurchefant, and by extension those under his command, lived in a war zone. I’ve known they faced constant attacks from dragons and heretics (…and karakuls, apparently) and that they lost men and women to their enemies all the time. Hells, a few of brave knights fell at my side when we faced down Svara and her brood. But this… it hit me for the first time today that Haurchefant could die at any time. If I hadn’t come along and born witness to the heretic’s scheme, I may have received word in a few weeks of his death. Or, worse, arrived at Camp Dragonhead only to learn the truth when I saw the carnage. 

I don’t understand people like Verdunaux or that traitor in the Immortal Flames, Roialle. How they can turn their backs on their people and then live among them like nothing has changed, all the while planning their downfall.  I don’t understand how they can act as comrades, friends, whilst secretly sharpening the knife to stab them in the back. How can they be happy? What drives them? Roialle had monetary incentives insofar as her Garlean and Monetarist masters were concerned but she had also been assisting the heretics. What could _they_ possibly offer her, and him, when they have naught for themselves?

Armor shifted and clinked just beyond my door, movement from the guard posted to keep me safe. I felt bad knowing I was probably the only reason they were not warm in their bunk. The clinking of armor continues, however, growing louder, and I realize someone is coming up the stairs. Thoughts of heretics and assassins race through my mind and I push myself upright with my free hand. Then it occurs to me that no one intent on killing me would approach so brazenly and wearing such noisy clothing. There was a reason the shinobi wore naught more than cloths and leathers despite their dangerous work, after all.

“My lord,” a man’s voice greeted softly.

“All is quiet?” came Haurchefant’s voice in reply and I relaxed.

“Yes, my lord.”

The privacy screen in front of the doorway shifted slightly and Haurchefant peered in, perking up when he spotted me. His head retreated, I heard him bid the knight keep watch near the stairs, then he shifted the privacy screen further to squeeze through before returning it to its place. The corner of my mouth twitched into a smile at him almost reflexively and I shifted into a more comfortable position. He would not have come this late if he did not mean to speak with me on something important.

“Good evening, my dear,” he said softly. “Can you not sleep?”

I shrugged my shoulders, ducking my head. He seemed to understand my nonverbal response—he’s good at that—and pulled the chair from the desk over to the bed.

“I, unfortunately, have not even been able to try. I have just come from the meeting with mine officers.”  
  
My brow furrowed in consternation. “How did that go?”

He raised his eyebrows, bobbing his head back and forth, and puffed his cheeks as he exhaled. I couldn’t help but giggle quietly. I wasn’t the only one capable of saying much without a single word. “Well, I had to send for Y’sthola to speak on your behalf. After your fall yesterday, there were some who doubted your…not your honesty, of course, but whether or not you were of sound mind.”

I grimaced though I could not blame them in the slightest. I myself would labor to believe another were they in my position spouting such claims.

“But we have their support, enough that they have agreed we should investigate your claims.” Haurchefant glanced at the door and cleared his throat. “And Y’shtola has agreed to assist in the search. Here.” He murmured, reached into a pocket on his belt, and pulled out a small piece of parchment. I took it and unfolded it carefully. “I know you use a different alphabet when you write but…”

I glanced up at him. “Don't worry. I can sort-of read Eorzean.”

>   _Here is the story I gave them. I labored to remain as close to your idea as possible. You were riding through Coerthas when you perchanced to witness a man bearing no house sigil making his way towards the Boulder Downs. You followed and used your ability to hide within plain sight to eavesdrop on their conversation. However, your duties as a Scion prevented you from relaying the message personally for some time and you did not trust such perilous information in a letter._
> 
> _Y’sthola informed them that a primal had indeed been summoned in the Black Shroud, hence your delay, and that exhaustion and a lingering effect of the Primal’s aether caused you to collapse in the manner you did._

I read the note twice to ensure I understood everything then nodded, handing the paper back. He crinkled it up in his hand and tucked it inside his belt once more.  

“So, what happens now?” I asked.

Haurchefant took a deep breath and smiled at me on the exhale. “Now…we rest. We need it. Today was difficult and tomorrow shall be worse.”

Heaving a sigh, I scooted around so I was facing him. “I’ve been trying, but, my mind is just…. I don’t understand.”

“Understand?”

I shook my head, sighing in frustration once more. I am not good with words, I never have been, and more than ever I hated my inability to give voice to my thoughts. There was an answer I needed and yet how did I ask for it?

“You…” No, that wasn’t right. “How…” No, neither. “Why do…ugh!” I exhaled in frustration and smacked my leg with my good hand.

“Easy now,” Haurchefant soothed, placing his hand over mine. “Take a deep breath. It’s alright.”

I shake my head again, but I think, this time, I have the words. “Why are you here? I mean, why are you _here_? In—in Dragonhead. Why are you a knight?”

Whatever Haurchefant was expecting, it clearly was not that. Blinking in surprise, he started to draw his hand back, but I grabbed on quickly and would not let go. “I don’t mean offense,” I said hastily. “I am…confused and… there’s so much going on, here, out there, and I don’t understand. I—I know I’m naught more than a weapon to people but if I am to be wielded, I would know why.”

“You’re not a weapon,” he protested softly, his hand relaxing in my grip before curling around mine.

“But I am. S’all I’m good for. That and coming along to important events as a figurehead,” I added bitterly. “I came to this land to live and explore, to help people, and it started that way but then…people noticed me, they noticed what I could do, and suddenly I became… _this._ And I got pulled in to the politics and the conflicts. It’s not just ‘go here, do this, help out, kill some wild animals’ anymore. It’s killing gods and conspiracies and politics and foreign policy and imperial spies…”

I looked at him to gauge his reaction and apart from sympathy, there was nothing there but intense focus.

“Iceheart… she said something to me, after I’d felled Shiva.”

“You need not take the words of a heretic—”

“No, I do! Because she was right. Eorzea and the Scions, they might not be in this war but _I_ am, now. At first, I was merely doing my duty as a Scion but now… I’m involved in something I don’t even understand.” I swallowed and let out a sigh. “Why…why do you serve, Haurchefant? Why are you fighting?”

He smiled ever so slightly, shook head, and sighed. “You ask difficult questions, my dear, and I suppose ‘duty’ is not a suitable answer. No…”

He trailed off and looked towards the lone window in the room, eyes distant. I exhaled softly, relieved that he did not appear to be mad and was considering my words. I hoped that, whatever he said, it would help.

“There are half a dozen answers I could give you,” he replied after a time and turned to face me once more. “But…I think…stripped away of everything, the truest of them all is that I believe our cause to be worth dedicating my life to. Beyond that, I serve Ishgard for her people, for those who cannot fight, those who wish to live, because I believe in a future where the war is but an ugly memory and my people can live free.”

“Because it’s worth dedicating your life to,” I repeated…then laughed, weak and humorless. “Then I suppose we are the same. I suppose…we all are, in that respect. We find a cause that we believe in, to which we can dedicate ourselves, even if it’s not the one we anticipated.”

Haurchefant squeezed my hand. “I believe you’re right. Has this…helped you?”

“I think, a little. But now I—I still wonder: how can he do this? How can he…be one of them?” I gritted my teeth. “Obviously, they told him things which convinced him theirs was the cause which deserved his dedication, but _what_? What is it? What could possibly justify _this_?”

“I don’t know, my dear, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Would I could answer, if only to ease your mind, but I do not understand these men and women any more than you do. Those more…zealous members of the faith would say that they are weak of mind and heart and that it was these innate flaws which allowed them to be corrupted and lead astray.” His brow furrowed as he spoke, indicating how little he thought of this mindset.

I shook my head. “I don’t think they’re that way at all. It takes great courage to do what they do.”

“Careful,” he said sharply, and I pressed my lips together, looking away. Right, of course. No matter how comfortable I was around him, at the end of the day he was still of the Halonic faith and—

“Those are dangerous words.” He rubbed his thumb along my knuckles in reassurance. “And as you said, the walls have ears. I should not like them to overhear.” I met his eyes again and gave him a small smile. Alright, perhaps he was not quite so unreachable. Still, I understood that there were things I could not say to him, trains of thought and half-formed ideas I could not voice for both his safety and my own. And, with a sigh, I realized that there was no answer to my question that he could give me.

The heretics’ true incentive, whatever it was, would not, _could_ not, come from an Ishgardian.

“You should sleep,” Haurchefant encouraged after a few long moments of silence. “Put such thoughts from your mind. You are no one and nothing but yourself and I would have you focus on only yourself while you are here.” Squeezing my hand once more, he returned it to my lap and stood. “I shall see you at breakfast, my dear.”

“Alright,” I replied. “And…thank you.”

His smile was warmer than any hearth in all of Coerthas.

* * *

 

The Warrior of Light arrived at breakfast bright and early looking for all the world like she had not suffered a terrible fall off her chocobo the day before. The mere sight of her caused Haurchefant’s spirits to lift, to soar, after a grueling night, poor sleep, and a miserable morning.

When he had seen her last night, he had been unable to fully convey how arduous a process convincing his officers and knights had been, and that was with them under the presumption the Warrior of Light had physically been present to hear the conversation. Eveline and Corentiaux, thankfully, said not a word while he lied through his teeth about how she came about this information.

Yet, still, there was dissent and he’d been forced to send for Y’shtola in the Warrior’s place to vouch for her fortitude and factualness despite overwhelming circumstances. Fortunately, by midnight he had successfully secured the support of his officers for what was to come and briefed them on the plans he had developed for the following day.

The Warrior wore a strange set of purple and black armor today, though calling it armor was a stretch as it seemed to be made primarily of textiles, and shoes which seemed far too soft for the Coerthan terrain. Were it not for the twin blades hanging from either hip, Haurchefant would not have thought her outfit battle armor at all. When she finished going through the meal line, he waved her over to the high table

“Good morrow, my dear,” he greeted when she sat down. Corentiaux, on his other side, echoed the greeting. “I trust you slept well?"  
  
She made a face. “Well enough, I suppose. The chirurgeon’s given me the go-ahead to depart…’course he wants me to take it easy for a few days.” She huffed irritably, letting him know exactly what she thought about the situation. “Have you heard anything yet?”

Haurchefant glanced down at her untouched plate. “We shall learn of their success or failure ere long,” he said. “In the meantime, eat. The day’s events aside, you must maintain your strength so that your body may continue its recovery unhindered.”

She heaved a sigh. “Fall off a chocobo one bloody time and suddenly everyone’s your nursemaid…not like I’m used to getting knocked about by _bloody primals_ or anything…” She grumbled but took a bite of her breakfast nonetheless.

“I would thank you to not remind me,” he retorted. “And no matter what you say, I shall continue to fuss over you when you’re unwell. Someone ought to from time to time.”

She had no witty response for that but a glance revealed cheeks tinged slightly pinker than usual. Haurchefant took satisfaction in that and let the subject drop. He turned his attention instead to the dining hall which near capacity, the last of the camp residents trickling in for their portion of the morning meal. He began to scan the room for Verdunaux. The man had not yet arrived by the time the Warrior made her appearance, yet he could have arrived in the intervening minutes. However, his initial scan came up with nothing, as did the one after.

He turned quickly to Ser Antoine, sitting two seats to his right, and cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s time for morning prayer?” he suggested.

If Haurchefant’s request surprised him, Antoine didn’t show it. Instead he nodded, took a quick swig from his cup, and rose to his feet, letting out a sharp whistle to draw their attention.

“Good morrow, all!” He said over the din, which immediately begin to die out. Faces turned towards the high table and Haurchefant began his search once more. No…no…wrong hair color…too old…too young…wrong race…

Just as Haurchefant was preparing to panic, he spotted him at the far end of the table closest to the door. So focused on the faces staring at the high table, he had nearly overlooked the one face that was not. Had Verdunaux been looking forward, he might have seen Haurchefant watching him. Attentive listening was not required by any means, of course, and Haurchefant himself was guilty of allowing his mind to wonder during sermons before. However, given what they now knew of the man, Verdunaux’s inattentiveness was but further evidence against him.

Antoine instructed everyone to bow their heads for prayer and Haurchefant obeyed, though more out of appearance’s sake. Beside him, he felt the Warrior of Light shift oddly. He peeked one eye open and glanced at her, only to find her staring straight out into the crowd. That she’d opted to not partake in the prayer didn’t come as a surprise for he knew she was not a pious woman, but rather the way she seemed to be regarding something with curiosity. It was all he could do to not follow her gaze.

The prayer ended, Antoine took his seat, and conversation resumed as normal.

“Might I enquire as to what caught your eye?” Haurchefant asked.

“You all bowed your heads…except for him. He wasn’t going to, I don’t think, until he caught me looking.” She shrugged once and lifted the apple from her tray to her mouth. “Guess he’s not used to people having their eyes open during prayer,” she said before taking a bite.

“No, I don’t imagine he is,” he mused. “‘Tis hardly a transgression on its own but in light of your accusation, it could serve as further evidence against him.”

She sighed. “Of course.”

“You object?”

“It’s not that I object, it’s just…never mind.” She took another bite of her apple. “It’s nothing.”

It certainly did not seem like _nothing…_ but he decided not to press her, for now. There were more important matters at hand, like the squire who had just walked through the door. The young elezen lad was in service to Ser Tenebres, one of the officers within Dragonhead, who had been tasked with leading the search of Verdunaux’s belongings. The squire strode towards the high table with the brisk gait of a boy who desperately wanted to be running but was only just restraining himself.

The squire, cheeks flushed from the cold and possibly exertion, stopped before Haurchefant and saluted. “My lord, Ser Tenebres sends his report.”

“Continue, with discretion,” Haurchefant bade.

“Yes, my lord. The inspection is concluded, and an object has been located. My lord asks you join him in the main hall as soon as possible.”

There it was.

Haurchefant nodded once. “Very good. Tell him I will be along shortly.”

“At once, my lord.” The squire bowed politely then departed with more haste than he’d arrived.

Haurchefant took a deep breath then looked along the high table at the six officers seated there, all of whom were watching him closely.

“T’would seem she indeed had the right of it,” Lady Yaelle mused. The Warrior of Light snorted quietly. “Shall we proceed as planned?”

“Indeed,” Haurchefant replied. “I shall go ahead with the Warrior of Light and inspect this object.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Carry out your designated tasks and join us forthwith. My lady…”

The Warrior of night, took one final bite of breakfast, and then jumped to her feet.

They departed the dining hall and hurried across camp towards the main hall. The courtyard was utterly deserted, most of the camp yet within the dining hall, save for the few on guard duty. …And there were precious few of them on the eastern walls. Haurchefant’s eyes were drawn to the ruins of the Steel Vigil which loomed in the distance. Even now, dragons amassed there in anticipating of the coming slaughter…and he had been dismissing the reports. Were it not for his dear friend and her Echo, his actions could have led to Camp Dragonhead’s downfall, and spelled certain ruin for those in the lands beyond. _Never again_ , he vowed, feeling a renewed sense of determination.

Arriving in the main hall, they found Tenebres, his squire, Eveline, and Y’shtola waiting near the hearth. His eyes were drawn to the miqo’te at once, who held a long, dark staff in her hands that exuded an almost…ominous air. Far too sinister to belong to one such as herself but exactly the kind of thing one might expect to see in the hands of a heretic.  
  
“What is this?” Haurchefant asked, gesturing to it.

Ser Tenebres saluted. “My lord. We found this affixed to the underside of Verdunaux’s bunk. At first glance, it appeared to be part of the framework itself. However, upon closer inspection, we realized it was no mere stick.”

“These markings and adornments—” Y’shtola ran her fingers along the top of the staff “—are reminiscent of those wielded by thaumaturges. Such weapons are ill-suited for conjury and are intended to channel destructive or dark magics. Based on my initial observations of the medium housed within, I’d say this is a weapon of advanced strength, intended for skilled practitioners capable of casting massive spells. Certainly more than a man of his age would be capable of without having devoted himself to intensive study, which they tell me he has not.” She glanced at Eveline and Tenebres, who nodded in agreement.

“And you think this proof of heresy?” Haurchefant asked.

Y’shtola shook her head. “Alone, it but strains the notion of his innocence. As he is not a practitioner of the black arts, I cannot say what he intends to do with such a weapon.”

The Warrior of Light suddenly gasped aloud, near startling Haurchefant out of his wits. His head whipped around in alarm, seeking an enemy and finding only his friend with wide, horrified eyes, and hands slapped over her mouth. “Oh _gods_!” she whispered.

“Seven hells, woman! Are you trying to scare us to death?” Tenebres demanded harshly.

“I know what he means to do!” She lowered her hands. “Oh, gods, I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection! I’ve _seen_ it before! You’re going to think me mad but—” she jabbed a finger at the stave “—every time I’ve fought heretics within their strongholds, there was always at least one wielding something similar. And…”

Tenebres stepped towards her. “Speak, woman!”

The Warrior drew herself up to full height and clenched her fists. “Each and every one of them summoned a dragon…after a fashion. They utilized some manner of incantation. I could never hear or even properly see what they were doing beyond the others I was fighting but each one, without fail, would cast their spell and then a dragon would be there. A real, proper, living dragon. Like the ones up at Providence Point, in particular. It would attack and they would…I just assumed they’d escaped.”

Silence followed her words. Haurchefant looked at Tenebres and Eveline and saw his own shock and horror mirrored in their faces.

“Are you absolutely certain?” the female knight demanded, her voice like steel. “Without a doubt?”

“Yes,” the Warrior replied empathetically. “Speak with others who fought in the reclamation of the Stone Vigil if you must ‘cos I doubt I was the only one who saw it happen. I don’t know what this has to do with the potion or anything…unless…it wasn’t physical strength the potion was intended grant. Maybe, _maybe_ , it provides the mental strength to cast whatever incantation is needed to summon a dragon.”

Y’shtola cocked her head and her tail flicked from side to side. “I think also it prudent to mention that his bed carried the scent of dragons.”

Haurchefant raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t even have to tell her which it was, my lord,” Tenebres added. “She went right to his bunk.”

He looked between the Scion and the knight incredulously. What a gift the miqo’te had. Would that Elezen or hyurs could do the same. They would be able to literally sniff out heretics! Why, this could change the tide of their struggles! 

“U-um, pardon me, my lords,” the squire began timidly. “But…how can that be? Wouldn’t that mean there was a dragon…within his bed?”

“Not necessarily,” Haurchefant corrected, “but were he around dragons, he could bring the scent of them home with him.”

“If that is the case, then he entreated with his allies quite recently,” Y’shtola warned them. “Perhaps even while we all slept. Nevertheless, the scent is there and not of its own power, I am sure.”

“The Holy See will weigh her words no more heavily than the Warrior of Light’s,” Eveline warned. “But if there were other knights at the Stone Vigil who witnessed what she described, their testimony could be what we need.”

“Indeed,” Haurchefant said with a nod, “and I will reach out to Lord Drillemont as soon as possible to secure his assistance. However, as Commander, I believe this stave enough to make a formal accusation against him to the Inquisitor. Are we in agreement?” The knights nodded. “Good. Then you know what your tasks are, see you complete them posthaste.”

“And me?” the Warrior of Light asked, placing her hand on the hilt of her weapon.

Haurchefant smiled at her. T’was here, now, where she was needed most. “I would have you remain here…and prepare yourself, for yours is perhaps the most important task of all.”


	4. Traitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Verdunaux de Olliard, you have been accused of heresy, of mutiny against House Fortemps, and treason against the Holy See of Ishgard.”

All of the commanding officers and senior knights of Camp Dragonhead…for one heretic. I was not sure if this was formality or if they were really expecting him to put up a fight worthy of needing all eight of them, not to mention myself and Y’shtola. And, well, Brigie too, I suppose, assuming the Inquisitor can fend for herself.

Before sending for Verdunaux, Haurchefant, his knights, Y’shtola, and I spoke our case before Brigie. I told her how I’d been riding through Coerthas some days ago and had witnessed a knight travelling alone, bearing no sigil, and had assumed him to be a heretic. Following him had lead me to a secluded cave within the vicinity of Griffin’s Crossing where I had overheard them talking and that would my duties as a Scion not have prevented me, I would have raced to Camp Dragonhead immediately. Instead, I had come as soon as I was able.

Given that Verdunaux was often assigned to patrol the southern regions of Dragonhead, according to Haurchefant, it was quite a clever lie, and not one that Verdunaux could dispute without incriminating himself.

Brigie dutifully took down my testimony word for word. When I was finished, Ser Tenebres begun recounting their search of the accused’s bunk, Y’shtola’s olfactory discoveries, and showed her the staff. All at once, Brigie’s expression darkened and I knew, from there, we had her convinced.

I don’t know what reason they gave Verdunaux when they summoned him to the great hall but whatever it was, it must’ve been good, because when he arrived, he was relaxed. Or, well, as relaxed as someone in his position could’ve been. At least at first. But in the span of the moments it took him to cross from the door to Haurchefant’s desk, that changed. Maybe he could feel the tension in the air, maybe he realized who exactly was in the room. He didn’t notice me though, concealed as I was in the corner of the room, which was exactly what Haurchefant had been counting on when he bid me hide.

Someone in Verdunaux’s position would have undoubtedly taken note of everyone in the room as he entered and upon realizing he was in a tense situation, would have begun formulating what it would take to escape. Without knowing for certain what he was capable of, we had no way of predicting how he would react to the accusation. Which was, in part, where I came in.

“Verdunaux,” Haurchefant greeted in a clipped tone. 

“Lord Haurchefant.” Verdunaux’s voice was rich and smooth like cream, far from the hoarse and rough cries I was used to hearing from the heretics I fought in the wilds. The voice of a cultured man raised in finery, taught how to speak and act from a young age, and charismatic enough to avoid detection amongst his peers for so long. He was good looking, too; young, smooth jaw, angular nose, long ears, reasonably tall. Nothing about him screamed _heretic!_ And yet my mind’s eye had seen the hateful, ugly smile on his face as he spoke with his fellow of slaughtering the camp, heard the spite in his voice.

He executed a flawless bow despite the tension in his shoulders and then straightened, hands behind his back. “You summoned me, my lord?”

“Indeed, I did.” Haurchefant rose to his feet and around the room, the seven other knights shifted, those who had been pretending to be occupied on some other task turning to face the desk. Hands reached for the hilts of swords or the shafts of spears. The biggest members of the group, one of whom was Ser Tenebres, placed themselves squarely in front of the doors. If Verdunaux noticed, he did not react.

Haurchefant looked towards the corner of the room which was partially concealed by a screen. From behind it emerged Brigie, the Inquisitor, who approached the desk. Gods, what I would’ve given to have seen that bastard’s face in that moment for it must have finally dawned on him what was occurring.

He turned, casting his eyes about the room and to its occupants, then faced his commanding officer. “Ser?”  
  
“Verdunaux de Olliard, you have been accused of heresy,” Brigie declared, “of mutiny against House Fortemps, and treason against the Holy See of Ishgard.”

The elezen man was silent for a moment and before he asked stiffly, “On what grounds?”

“You were witnessed,” Haurchefant declared and I began creeping forward, “consorting and conspiring with heretics to lay siege to Camp Dragonhead with the assistance of the Dravanians slowly congregating to the north in the ruins of the Steel Vigil.”

“T-that’s preposterous!” Verdunaux sputtered indignantly. “I am loyal to Ishgard and devout to the Fury! How dare you! Who is my accuser?! Let them come forward!”

Haurchefant nodded to Corentiaux, who stepped forward and pulled from behind his back the stave they had uncovered from his bunk. Metal clanked against wood as he set the staff before them then silence fell.

“What is this?” Verdunaux demanded, gesturing at the weapon.

“It was found in your belongings,” Haurchefant said, “or more specifically, concealed beneath your bunk so none but a discerning eye would notice. Your bunk which, according to the Scion Y’shtola, reeks of dragon.”

Verdunaux visibly stiffened at that. “You would trust the word of an _unbeliever_?”

“I highly doubt one’s faith in Halone determines their olfactory capabilities. Considering that she was able to identify your sleeping space without being told beforehand merely by following the scent of dragons speaks volumes to her credibility, as does her status as a Scion of the Seventh Dawn and a known ally of Ishgard.”

He scoffed. “So, she is my accuser, then? Some foreign cow who can’t even do it to my face?”

“Have care with your words,” Haurchefant interjected sharply. “Lest they cast further doubt on the nature of your character.”

Verdunaux shook his head. “ _My_ character? And what of yours, _Ser Greystone_?”

Something in Haurchefant’s expression shifted at the sound of his name, his eyes becoming just a bit harder as they stared at the man before him. Like he’d been insulted, somehow.

“You would allow me to be accused of heresy by some outsider who is evidently incapable of distinguishing one elezen from the next! _You_ , who allow them inside our walls, to roam our lands, to break bread with us, and treat them as honored guests while they sit in defiance of the Fury!”  
  
“You speak of others defying the Fury, yet you were seen with your eyes open during the prayer this morning.”

Verdunaux’s teeth clicked together. “Oh, I see now,” he growled. “It was _her_ , wasn’t it? She rode into camp, fell off her bird, and got her brains addled. Then she started throwing around accusations of heresy, and you just took her at her word because you fancy her?”

Haurchefant’s glare hardened even further and I decided it was time to intervene before _that_ got any further.

“‘But one sip,’” I said, directly behind him, and Verdunaux near jumped out of his skin before whipping around to face me. I let my shadows fall away for all, especially the Inquisitor, to see how easy it was for me to move about undetected. His eyes widened in horror. “‘T’is all that is required.”

The speed at which color began to drain from his face was almost alarming. “W-what are you talking about?” he demanded.

“That’s what he said to you when he gave you the vial. And then you, you asked him: ‘What then should I do with the rest?’” I pitched my voice lower to mimic the other heretic. “S’pose that’s up to you now, innit? But the more ye drink, the stronger ye become.’”

Verdunaux shook his head once. “You, madam, are unwell. I do not know what I have done to have driven you to the point where you would make such accusations against me. I do not even recall us meeting before this moment. But, please, if it is the result of some error on my part, I shall gladly discuss it with you. When you are no longer injured, of course.”

Not bad, not bad. I hadn’t expected him to give so easily but I had put him on edge, enough that he’d immediately tried to diminish my credibility. Because now he would be wondering if it was true. If I really _had_ been there, invisible as I was just now, listening to everything.

“Though any fool with half a brain ought to know better than to listen to the ramblings of one in such a state,” he added with a pointed look of dislike in Haurchefant’s direction.

I narrowed my eyes. “At first, we thought that potion, whatever it was, was for physical strength, but we were wrong. It’s the catalyst you need in order to summon the dragon.” He whipped around to stare at me, mouth agape. Too late, he realized what he’d done and quickly regained his composure, but they’d already seen. I had him now. I folded my arms, smirking. “Yeah, didn’t see that one coming, did ya? And that’s what the stave is for.”

Verdunaux gritted his teeth and his hands curled into fists. “How…can you _possibly_ know that?”

“I’ve seen it happen before. Your friends in the Stone Vigil were quite liberal with the technique. Even if the Holy See won’t take my word for it, there were plenty of others in there with me. Good, _noble_ men and women of House Durendaire, who won’t hesitate to testify against you.”

The elezen’s jaw shook with barely suppressed rage and a long stream of air rushed out of his nose.

Brigie folded her arms and levelled Verdunaux with a fearsome scowl. “Verdunaux de Olliard, you have heard the charges and evidence against you. Will you confess to your crimes before us now or do you intend to plead your case before the Tribunal?”

Verdunaux stared at the Inquisitor for a long moment then inhaled deeply. “I’ll let the Fury decide,” he said on the exhale.

The thing about stories is that they tend to get exaggerated over time. Simple deeds like slaughtering a local monster which none had yet been able to vanquish could get blown out of proportion in a matter of days. When you do the things that I do, it’s hard to have your tales exaggerated because they’re already so far beyond belief that folks who haven’t witnessed me first hand already struggle to believe it. My reputation is built on wild story after wild story of deeds none in the realm could hope to accomplish. Someone who did not know me, whose close knowledge of my exploits extended only to my feats against local dragons, heretics, and Shiva herself, might think me not as much as I am proclaimed to be. That they were somehow a match for me.

Tis for that reason alone, I think, that Verdunaux whirled around then, teeth bared and eyes wild, hand on the hilt of his sword. Had he known me, he would have known I am far, far quicker than he could hope to be. Had he known me, he would not have dared.

Before he could even draw his sword, my dagger was arcing up. One slash across his face, like a striking snake, and then I backflipped away, landing crouched on the table behind me. He let out a shout of pain and stumbled, hands flying to his face where blood streamed from the gash I had inflicted. The other knights surged forward, Corentiaux reaching him first, but just as he closed his arms around Verdunaux, the traitor slumped over and very nearly pulled the knight with him. 

Y’sthola, wand held aloft, glared down at the man sprawled on the floor. Corentiaux glanced at her and nodded once. “Thank you, madam.” She nodded curtly in return and kept her wand out.

“Bind him, quickly,” Haurchefant commanded. “And search him.” Corentiaux knelt down to do just that and Ser Yaelle hurried to assist with a length of rope, while Antoine and Eveline kept their swords trained on his head. I hopped down from the table, sheathed my blades once more, and gave Haurchefant a small smile, shaking my head.

Brigie’s usually calm demeanor had been somewhat ruffled by the sudden turn of events but her voice was level as she addressed Haurchefant. “Hold him until I return with the Temple Knights. I shall take the staff with me to Foundation so that he—” she threw the sleeping traitor a look of disgust “—cannot reclaim it.”

“She cut his eye,” Yaelle informed us, her hand gripping the unconscious man’s chin. Had I? Recalling the path my blade had taken, it did seem quite likely that his eyeball may have taken damage, though it had not been my intention. Oh well.

“Madam Inquisitor, would you not agree that he, sound of mind and body, evoked his right to trial by combat?” Corentiaux pointed at the Warrior of Light. “And his accuser was the victor?”

Brigie regarded the tangle of knights on the ground for a long moment, then me. Her lips quirked into a small, wry grin, then she turned and plucked the staff from Haurchefant’s desk. “I shall return anon. I bid you keep your wits about you and remember that judgement is the Fury’s alone.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She closed her eyes after a moment, disappeared in a small flash of light. I blinked in surprise. Apart from Haurchefant’s departure from Mor Dhona, I had never seen an Ishgardian teleport, though logic dictated those who could must and quite often, or else they would not bother having an aetheryte here in Dragonhead at all.

“What now, my lord?” Yaelle asked.

“He’ll will not remain asleep for long.” Y’shtola warned. “I have cast the spell again, but he will eventually become resistant to it.”

Haurchefant did not respond, staring intently at the traitor lying prone on the ground. Wounded, bleeding, bound, and forcibly unconscious, he was hardly a threat now and yet Haurchefant regarded him the way a hunter might regard a wounded predator, fallen yet not dead, and still every bit as dangerous.  “Did you find a vial? A flask? Anything on his person?”

Yaelle shook her head. “No, my lord. Not unless he carries it somewhere unmentionable.”

Haurchefant’s stare hardened into a glower and he shook his head slowly. “This was too simple.”

“I do not suppose, my lord, that you would consider it perhaps to be the will of the Fury that he was so easily subdued?” Ser Theobalin, the eldest of the knights present, asked wearily.

“This man is of my family line, ser. I know his ways. One such as he would not have allowed himself to be entrapped or surrendered so easily had he not a backup plan.” Haurchefant folded his arms. “There is yet more to this scheme than we have seen and we must needs be prepared. For all we know, his allies to the north are already aware something has befallen him. …Theobalin, Eveline, Antoine, ready the garrison. I want every fighting-fit man and woman, regardless of rank or station, with a weapon in hand.”

“Yes, my lord,” Theobalin said and Eveline echoed him, sheathing her sword. They hurried for the door.

Haurchefant turned towards the stout elezen man with Tenebres near the door. “Broulent, round up the civilians. Bid them either make for elsewhere or seek shelter in the infirmary, then remain there to guard it.”

Broulent saluted. “At once, my lord!”

He turned to go but Haurchefant stopped him. “Wait! Seek out my cousin there as well, tell her to travel to Fortemps Manor and inform my father that a heretic has been found among our ranks. That I will contact him as soon as I am able and request that he and my brothers remain within the city until we are certain it is safe.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Haurchefant nodded then looked to the other knight at the door. “Tenebres, make for the Locks. Inform Francel of what has occurred and of the threat lurking to the north. Ask for nothing but reject no offers of assistance. When you are finished, return here at once and assist Theobalin and Eveline in their task.”

Tenebres saluted and hurried out the door.

“Yaelle, keep watch outside the door. No one is to enter but the Inquisitor or the Temple Knights.”

“At once, my lord!”

It was just the five of us then, myself, Y’shtola, Haurchefant, Corentiaux, and the unconscious man on the floor.

“And me, my lord?” Corentiaux asked.

“We shall hold him here,” Haurchefant replied, walking around the desk. “Lady Y’shtola, how long can you keep him under?”

“Naught but a few minutes.”

“Hmm. And what of his face? Can you do anything for that? I would rather he not bleed out on the floor.” Y’shtola nodded once and knelt beside him. Curative magic flowed from her hand and enveloped his face for a few moments. Enough to stop the bleeding but not much more. Haurchefant cocked his head to the side, studying Verdunaux’s face for a moment, then nodded. “Once he awakens, we must needs be mindful of our words. We can allow him naught which could strengthen his defense before the Tribunal.”

“My lord, would it not be safer to escort him to a holding cell?” Corentiaux asked.

“Quite so however I believe it unwise to allow his identity to be made known yet.”

Y’shtola’s ears flicked back and she narrowed her eyes. “You believe he may have an accomplice.” It wasn’t a question.

“I believe it to be within the realm of possibility,” Haurchefant agreed then looked at me. “Hide yourself once more, in case he tries to flee.”

I shook my head. “It won’t work. He knows I’m here now.”

“Very well. Then, pray, keep your silence, my lady, for he will certainly attempt to provoke you into killing him.”

I blinked in surprise…then considered it.

…It made sense, actually. Dead men told no tales. Questioning, perhaps under duress, awaited him in Ishgard, wherein he would potentially spill the secrets of his allies and destroy what remained of their chances, before his eventual execution. He could count on Haurchefant and Corentiaux to control themselves, Y’shtola was an enigma to him, but me…well, my deeds spoke for themselves. I was his best, last hope at dying prematurely.

I nodded. He would receive no such mercy from me.

“Another heretic…” Corentiaux murmured, pained. “By the Fury…”

At his feet, Verdunaux began to stir. Y’shtola made a soft noise of displeasure and cast another sleeping spell on him. Except, he did not go limp once more and continued to push towards wakefulness. I swore under my breath. He would be one of the few able to quickly build a tolerance to such magic. Y’shtola seemed to agree with me if the sudden lashing of her tail was any indication. She rose to her feet and backed away from him.

Verdunaux let out a groan of pain. “Ah…ugh…oh you… _churl_ …” he spat as he became more alert. He jerked against the ropes binding his hands then lifted his head, shooting a baleful look in my direction. Blood stained his face, bright red and grisly. “What did…you do…to me?”

“Attacking the Warrior of Light,” Haurchefant replied in my stead, “was perhaps the most foolish thing you could have done.”

“Not as foolish as your father,” Verdunaux sneered, craning his neck to see Haurchefant over his shoulder. “What sort of man bequeaths such a station to the likes of _you_?”

Haurchefant’s expression was cold but otherwise neutral. “I should warn you now that you will not be able to antagonize me. I have endured far worse insults in my life than any you can conjure.” 

I frowned at that. Who would insult him…and why?

Verdunaux laughed once without humor. “Of course, _my lord._ ” With a grunt, he flipped himself onto his back then sat upright but did not attempt to stand. We watched him silently. “I suppose it matters naught. You are all going to die soon anyway.”

“Ah, yes, the dragons amassing in the Steel Vigil.” Haurchefant nodded once, clasping his hands behind his back. The traitor’s eyes widened the tiniest but then they flicked to me and understanding dawned. If looks could kill, not even Hydaelyn herself would have saved me in that moment. “Preparations are already underway to expunge them. I must confess, I had been inclined to disregard the reports I received of their numbers growing, but in light of the Stone Vigil’s reclamation, perhaps it is high time we take the Steel as well. Your capture will do much to sway the other Houses opinions on the matter, I am sure, so thank you.”

Verdunaux’s expression was somewhere between fury and indignation. He was silent for a few moments before he finally…laughed? That wasn’t what I was expecting, nor anyone else for that matter. Corentiaux glanced between myself and Haurchefant uneasily and placed his hand on the hild of his sword. Verdunaux leaned forward, laughing, shaking his head, and shifted so he was kneeling on his knees instead. After a few moments of laughing, he lifted his head and looked at me.

“No wonder…he keeps you around…” he said between laughs, which had begun to sound scornful. “You’re ever…such a loyal…thing.” His laughter died but the smirk remained. “Going where they tell you, killing who they tell you, never questioning why…like a good little pawn. I bet they wish they had ten of you.”

My brow furrowed but otherwise I did not respond.

He leaned towards me. “But that is not quite true. I’m sure you have questioned it all by now. The war, if what you are doing is _right_ , if maybe everything they’ve told you is a _lie_ —”

“Enough,” Haurchefant interrupted sharply.

Verdunaux turned his smirk on Haurchefant. “Oh, do not worry, Greystone, I will not try to turn the dog on its master, as it were.” He glanced at me. “Although, mayhap you ought to be concerned. She took ever so long to come to you with what she had seen. For all you know, her loyalties may have shifted.”

Haurchefant, to his credit, did not even seem fazed.

“You misjudge me,” I said quietly. Verdunaux quirked his brow. “I know I could stand here all day tryin’ to convince you of why I got involved but you won’t believe me, so I won’t even bother. I’m here, now, because you were going to kill my friend and his people. That’s it.”

The traitor tutted quietly. “How sweet. And if I told you that your _friend_ was the descendant of liars, oathbreakers, and murderers, would you still stand where you do?”

“Shall I silence him, my lord?” Corentiaux asked, unsheathing his sword halfway.

“Now there’s an idea,” Haurchefant muttered and Verdunaux laughed scornfully.

“Oh, yes, silence me. Just we always have silenced those who would dare speak the truth!” I saw the movement in my mind’s eye in the seconds before it occurred and reacted without thinking. Spinning around on the ball of my foot, I delivered swift kick to the side of Verdunaux’s head just as he started to lunge, and he crumpled to the ground like a sack of popotos. Haurchefant and Corentiaux both let out cries of alarm.

I didn’t hit him as hard as I could’ve, not by a long shot, but with neither helmet nor mail to shield his head, it was enough to knock him down and…it seemed out, as well.

“Well struck, my lady,” Corentiaux muttered appreciatively. “But perhaps a bit too hard.”

I shrugged.

Haurchefant sighed and folded his arms. “Corentiaux, fetch another length of rope. It seems we must needs bind him to a chair.”

“No need,” I said, “just roll him onto his back.”

“But wh—”

“Just trust me.”

Haurchefant regarded me for a moment then nodded to Corentiaux. The two knights carefully moved towards the traitor’s prone form, as if expecting him to leap up at any moment, but he remained innocuously still. They rolled him hastily onto his back with absolutely no concern for his head then backed away. Focusing the power within granted to me by the soulstone, I made the symbol for Chi with my hands, then Jin. Cold blossomed in my chest, swelled into my throat, and I tucked my chin just as it reached my lips, but rather than forcefully expelling it as I usually did in battle, I puckered my lips and blew in a steady stream towards Verdunaux’s legs. Ice formed on the ground beneath him and encased his sabatons entirely in a matter of seconds, and I kept blowing until the chill faded from my chest and his legs were bound by several inches of ice.

“That is a Doman skill, is it not?” Y’shtola remarked.

I nodded and told Haurchefant, “Assuming he wakes up before the Temple Knights arrive, that should hold him.” I paused and licked my lips, wondering if I should even bother asking…. Might as well. “What did he mean by that? ‘Liars and oathbreakers’?”

Haurchefant sighed and Corentiaux shook his head. “Heretics are wont to spout such things,” the latter explained. “People like him—” he nudged Verdunaux’s arm with the top of his boot “—who have turned their backs on Halone did so on the lies of corrupt men and women who sought only to lure others away from Her grace. He was weak enough to be swayed.”

It’s all I can do to keep the frown off my face. I’d expect to hear that sort of answer from a priest or something. I can’t really fault him, of course, but I don’t have to accept his answer. No matter what the Ishgardians wanted to believe, not everything the heretics believe in is a lie. It _can’t_ be. Their convictions are too strong, their members too fervent, desperate. They would not persist for so long, so hard, for an ill-founded lie.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Y’shtola lift her hand to her ear in a gesture I was familiar with. “Good morrow,” she greeted to whoever was on the other end of her linkpearl. We looked at her in surprise. “No, all is well. One moment.” She made eye contact with Haurchefant. “If you would excuse me, sers.” Haurchefant nodded and gestured to the door. Y’sthola gave Verdunaux a final, unreadable look then briskly strode from the room, murmuring into the linkpearl.

“Er, my lady, I applaud your ingenuity…” Corentiaux began haltingly, “But how are we to free him from his binds?”

“Well…normally they fade on their own after a time…but I suppose, considering how cold it is, they’ll just um…stay. …Suppose you could take the boots off him,” I suggested.

“He has to walk back to the city.”

“Oh. Alright, I can melt them. Fair warning, though, it involves me breathing fire so…please don’t panic.”

A curious expression flitted across Haurchefant’s face and Corenitaux blinked owlishly. “…Yes, perhaps you ought to do that _before_ the Temple Knights arrive.”

As it happened, there was no need for me to bind him, for he remained unconscious until Brigie returned with a contingent of Temple Knights. We received about twenty seconds warning thanks to Yaelle and I was able to perform a quick but controlled Katon on the ice bindings around his legs. The door opened just after the last of the fire died from my lips and somehow Haurchefant and Corentiaux managed to school their expressions in time.

Brigie approached us, flanked by three Temple Knights, whose eyes examined the scene before them intently through the think slits in their visors. The chill and subsequent heat from my mudras had begun to pull Verdunaux back to consciousness, his limbs shifting and twitching subtly.

The Inquisitor hummed as she took in the sight of the traitor on the floor and the puddle of water. “What happened?”

“He awoke and attempted to attack us, the Warrior of Light subdued him with force.” Haurchefant replied matter-of-factly. “…And a manner of ice-based magic.”

If she found this odd, she didn’t show it, and simply nodded once. “Very well. Take him,” she ordered.

The Temple Knights approached and Fortemps knights backed away to give them room. Before they could grab him, Verdunaux let out a low moan of pain. One knight, a hyur by the look of him, knelt by his side and held his hand over Verdunaux’s head. Curative magic flowed from his palm to the body below for a few moments and then the traitor’s eyes blinked open. Satisfied that he was mended enough to stand, the other knights closed in and heaved Verdunaux to his feet. He made a noise of pain, as one would expect from someone who’d been concussed then forced to his feet, and slumped in their grip.

“On your feet, heretic,” one knight barked. Verdunaux muttered something about shoving his foot somewhere particular and got roughly jerked upright for it.

He blinked his eyes blearily then after a moment they focused on me, standing at Haurchefant’s side. A look of utter loathing slid across his face and then, disturbingly, he grinned before he was hauled bodily towards the door.

The camp was a flurry of activity when we stepped outside. No less than a dozen Temple Knights stood ready to escort Verdunaux from the premises. Verdunaux, whose hands and feet were being shackled in thick metal binds for all to see. And many did see. Soldiers and civilians alike were watching with horror at the sight of a man they knew, trusted, perhaps even confided in, being bound before an inquisitor. The traitor’s eyes slowly roamed the crowd, as if taking note of their expressions, and I watched him closely.

Even though I knew he was too smart for it, part of me hoped he would do something to acknowledge someone in the crowd. Even if it was just a twitch, or a blink. But there was nothing. His eyes slid across members of the crowd as if they were one until I could no longer see his face. But he never twitched, never nodded, never anything. Perhaps who he was searching for wasn’t there. Then they were finished chaining him and he was being led away by the Temple Knights with Brigie at the rear.

…We’d done it.

Dear gods, we’d done it.

* * *

 

The Temple Knights had scarcely left when Francel arrived with a contingent of his men, armed and ready. Haurchefant’s heart sank at the sight. Not at the sight of the knights, of course, for any of skill and courage were welcome in times such as these…but at the sight of his childhood friend. Lord Francel had courage in abundance but his skill in the areas of combat was decidedly…lacking. Not to mention that Haurchefant would rather he be anywhere _but_ a location which had, by all rights, been compromised to the utmost degree.

Halone only knew what had driven Francel to come personally knowing what the situation was. But Haurchefant could not very well order him away, not now. He would simply have to hope Francel kept his wits about him in the coming hours. 

Haurchefant bid Corentiaux escort them to the northern wall and the knights of House Haillenarte were still marching past when Y’shtola approached to inform him she was departing.

“Forgive me, Lord Haurchefant, for I had intended to remain and assist you, but unfortunately my presence is required at the Rising Stones for a matter of great import. As is yours, for it concerns our progress with the white auracite,” she told the Warrior of Light, who’s brow furrowed at the news. She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. Haurchefant had a sneaking suspicion that she had fully intended to remain for the coming battle, regardless of what her chirurgeon, or Haurchefant himself, willed. But her sense of duty as a Scion won out and she acquiesced with a heavy sigh.

Y’shtola nodded once. “I shall see you at the Rising Stones anon.”

“Full glad would I be for your continued support, but nevertheless, I understand that your responsibilities as a Scion outweigh our troubles.” Haurchefant bowed respectfully to Y’shtola. “There are no words to adequately expression how valuable your aid has been in this matter. On behalf of House Fortemps, you have my deepest thanks. I am sure my father will wish to convey his gratitude as well as soon as he is able. And of course, Camp Dragonhead will always be open to you, should you wish.”  

Y’shtola smiled and dipped into a polite bow of her own. “You are most welcome, ser knight. Twelve keep you in the coming conflict.”

She and the Warrior nodded to each other and then the miqo’te woman backed away before beginning the teleportation spell. It was only after she had gone that it occurred to Haurchefant that he had forgotten to ask if their friend was well enough to teleport back to the Toll alone.

The adventurer turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Alright. Where do you need me?”

Haurchefant blinked. “I beg your—surely you jest. You heard Y’shtola, you must needs return to the Toll at once!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It’s not like they need me for my brains or anything. They can manage without me for a few hours more. I’m seeing this through.”

He shook his head. “No. Even if you were not needed elsewhere, you are still _injured_ , my lady. I will not allow you into battle.”

Her expression turned defiant and she folded her arms. “You can’t stop me, y’know.”

“No, I cannot,” he agreed, resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation. “However, as your friend, I rather hope you will take my counsel and return home to recuperate. You will doubtless be needed again ere long and I would rest easier knowing you had fully recovered before then. …Besides—” he smiled wryly at her “—our enemy is only a few dragons. We are more than capable of handling them ourselves. Tis why we exist, after all!” Her frown only deepened at his words and his smile fell away. He placed his hand on her un-injured shoulder. “Please, my dear. It will greatly ease my mind if I know you are safe and not charging into battle when you were not even able to walk properly mere hours ago.”

She gave him a long, hard look…and when her eyes dropped towards the ground, he knew he had won.

“My things are still in the infirmary,” she muttered.

“Go,” he instructed, “I will see that your chocobo is prepared.”

She turned to leave.

“…And…thank you.”

The Warrior of Light paused, looked at him over her shoulder, and he hoped she understood, for his thanks was all he could truly offer her for what she had done. Then she smiled, warmer than the sun he so rarely ever saw these days, nodded, and walked away.

Haurchefant took a few, deep breaths, then headed for the stables himself. Though there was much and more for him to oversee, there was no point in grabbing someone from their task when he, a son of House Fortemps, was quite capable of preparing a single, temperate chocobo. The stable hands, along with the civilian chocobo porter whom Haurchefant was not at all surprised to see hadn’t heeded the order to evacuate, were in an absolute frenzy. Many chocobos were already saddled and bridled and they were frantically working on another. He spotted Bobby Corwen in one of the stalls normally reserved for travelers’ or porter chocobos, calmly observing the hustle and bustle in the stable like it was completely normal. Haurchefant hurried through the barn before one of the hands could spot him and panic.

They had stored Bobby’s barding on a rack just outside his stall. He took a moment to examine each piece in case there was something unusual about them then entered the stall. Bobby trilled in greeting, ruffling his feathers, and turned to present his side to Haurchefant expectantly. He made quick work of the saddle and bridle and decided to forego the remaining pieces of the barding, having deemed them purely decorative. 

He led Bobby Corwen from his stall by the reins with the remains of the barding tucked under his other arm. The stable hands paid him no mind. Once free of the stables, Haurchefant turned to the bird, whom he knew to be extremely intelligent, and patted the side of his head.

“Make sure she goes straight home,” he told him. Bobby warbled quietly in return but gave no indication of whether or not he agreed.

“What are you tellin’ him?” asked a disgruntled voice from behind and Haurchefant turned to see the Warrior approaching with her well-worn travel bags in her arms.

“Nothing of import,” Haurchefant replied smoothly. She gave him a doubtful look and set her bags down on the ground beside Bobby Corwen. “Are you prepared?”

Her expression tightened. “I just…I don’t like leaving like this. I should be helping you. I should be fighting, I—”

“My dear, you have already saved us.” He smiled at her. “Now let me take it from here.” He held out the reigns to her and she accepted them with a nod and a heavy sigh.

Commotion from the entrance to the stables drew Haurchefant’s attention over the Warrior of Light’s shoulder just in time to see a chocobo burst free of the doorway with a woman on its back. She glanced at them for a moment but did not even slow her steed’s stride as they raced past. Haurchefant frowned. That was Fanette, a lowborn soldier and the woman whom he had found at the Warrior of Light’s side yesterday. But why was she—

“ _Ah._ ”

Haurchefant’s head snapped around at the soft exclamation of pain. The Warrior of Light was hunched over, one hand to her forehead, the other slack around Bobby’s reins, and her face twisted into a grimace of pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked, alarmed.

“Hey!” cried one of the stable hands as he rushed from the stables. “Come back! She’s taken one of the chocobos! My lord!”

Haurchefant glanced at the stable hand dumbly then looked back at the Warrior of Light who was still…still… He reached out to touch her when suddenly her eyes blinked open. Immediately she whirled to face the direction Fanette had gone. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

“ _It’s_ _her_!”

Haurchefant stiffened at the words which she had hissed through clenched teeth. Before he could even begin to comprehend her meaning, she was leaping onto her chocobo’s saddle and snapping the reigns.

“It’s HER!” the Warrior of Light all but shrieked just before Bobby Corwen shot forward like an arrow loosed from its bow, kicking up dirt and snow in his haste.

And Haurchefant understood.


	5. Believers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had…heard tell of such things. Whispers and rumors he had chanced to hear over the years, spoken softly over cups of ale in the quietest parts of the taverns, on hunts far from the city when the more pious ears were elsewhere…. Stories of heretics who became dragons themselves. But he had never truly believed.

Ever since Haurchefant had proposed the idea of Verdunaux having an accomplice, my mind had been hurtling through scenario after scenario, trying to envision the potential outcomes, potential suspects, anything I could come up with my limited information, hoping maybe the Echo would grace me with some foreknowledge like it would in battle. It did not. But of all the ways this could’ve gone, of all the people it could’ve been, I…definitely had not expected this. Not that I’d had any real suspects, per say, but a woman I had only seen perhaps once or twice before had not even made the list.

_The woman’s horror at his words, his **truth—**_

Were he not certain his words would be enough to sway her to his side rather than send her running for their superiors, simply revealing his plans to her might have been fatal. What could he possibly have told her, what knowledge was he carrying, that could completely shatter the faith of a loyal knight and turn her against her own?

_Them kissing in an empty watch tower—_

Could it have been because they were lovers? I’ve heard it said that love could bring blindness where once was clarity and foolishness where once was intelligence, but even still this seems to be a bit much. Verdunaux knew something about Ishgard and the war, something big, and he’d shamelessly taunted me with the prospects of it when we had him bound. Haurchefant and Corentiaux had dismissed his words as lies but…I was not entirely convinced they were.

_Them **sharing** the potion—  
_

I gritted my teeth. I hadn’t anticipated that, either, but having two dragons in the camp would be more chaotic than one, to be sure.

I could see the woman in the distance, the spray of snow kicked up by her stolen chocobo, but despite Bobby racing after them at top speed, we were gaining absolutely no ground. We were, however, gaining fast upon the contingent of Temple Knights. At this rate, she would be on top of them before they reached the city gates. I was somewhere between ten and twenty seconds behind her, which would be more than enough time for her to pick off a few of the rear guard if she decided to go for a physical attack. With no way to stop her and no way to warn them, I could only hope that the knights would hear her in time.

Maybe, just maybe, they could stop her before she could summon a dragon. Their one saving grace was that, like all spellcasters, she needed to be grounded and still to cast her spell.

“Come on, boy!” I urged, nudging Bobby’s sides with my ankles. “Faster!”

Bobby Corwen chirped loudly and, miraculously, picked up speed.

“That’s it! Good boy!”

We had to make it. _We had to_.

And then, miracle of miracles, I saw the woman slow in the distance. She leaped from the back of her chocobo and puled something, a staff, I think, from her back. Magic and snow began to whirl around her and oh gods she wasn’t even trying to ambush them on her own, she was going right for the dragon, and oh gods I had no ranged weapons with me.

The spell took perhaps ten seconds to complete and by then I was but a hundred meters from her, more than close enough to see…to see…

A swirl of pure aether condensed around her form in a whirl of red light and power and the woman was _gone_. But the dragon was there. A massive aevis like the ones I had fought in the depths Snowcloak with ivory scales and talons that could cleave a roegadyn’s head clean off. It— ** _she_** —threw her head back and let loose a cry that was part scream, part roar. It tore through the valley like a knife, echoing off the mountains. Bobby Corwen shrieked in alarm and faltered I jammed my feet into his sides and urged him on.

I let go of the reins and grabbed my knives.

The aevis that used to be the elezen knight ceased her screams and whipped around to face us. Perfect.

 ** _“YOU._** ”

It took me a moment to realize that the feminine voice had not come from the dragon’s mouth—‘though a wordless roar certainly had—but rather everywhere and nowhere. In my head, yet not. Clear as day and full of wrath and loathing.

**_“This is YOUR FAULT!”  
_ **

Gripping my daggers carefully, I pushed myself into a crouch on top of Bobby’s saddle, and shukuchied myself onto the ground several meters away. The shinobi tactic, which normally negated my forward momentum, could not completely compensate for the speed at which I’d been traveling, and I was forced to somersault a few times. Pain flared in my shoulder but I ignored it and rolled to my feet. By then, Bobby had already realized I was no longer on board and had begun to slow. As for the dragon…

Well, she was airborn and heading right at me.

**_“DIE, OUTSIDER!”_ **

I smirked, made two quick symbols with my hands, and sent a bolt of lightning hurtling from the sky straight into the dragon’s back. She shrieked in offense…and hopefully pain but probably not. Still, it was enough to knock her to the ground and gave me a moment to dip my blades into the tinctures of venom at my waste. The reprieve did not last for she was on her feet after only a few seconds.

Bobby, clever, wonderful (arguably very stupid) Bobby, saw that her attention was on me and charged in to deliver a swift kick to her hindquarters. I heard a slash as talons pierced hide and this time the aevis shrieked in pain. She rounded on my chocobo who sidestepped her swipe and happily delivered a sharp peck to her shoulder. I called upon the power of huiton then shukuchied forward into striking distance and struck.

The aevis was strong, her teeth and talons razor sharp, easily capable of gouging through the weaker parts of my armor. Or they would’ve been if she’d been half prepared for an opponent half her size and three times as dexterous in that new form of hers. She could barely graze me as I dipped and weaved around her in a series of kicks, flips, and strikes that were as natural to me as breathing, punctuated with strikes of lightning the instant I felt the strength for one return to me. The pissed off chocobo was an added hinderance but nowhere near enough of a threat for her to risk taking her eyes and attention off me for more than a few moments. Every time she did, I delivered a punishing blow to draw her focus away from my far more vulnerable chocobo.

**_“DAMN YOU!”_ **

“Traitor!” I spat in reply.

The aevis roared and spread her wings. I immediately flattened myself against the ground and a moment later felt the surge of air as she took to the air. Bobby squawked in alarm. I glanced at him quickly before springing to my feet. The aevis flew several feet away before touching down and adopting a defensive stance.

 ** _“I’m going to kill you,”_** she vowed. **_“Then we’re going to raze Dragonhead to the ground. Ishgard WILL fall and you won’t stop us.”_**

I snorted and shouted back a single, pointed word: “Shiva.”

The aevis drew her lips back in a snarl and roared wordlessly at me once more. Then her attention shifted abruptly, and she was no longer looking at me, but over my shoulder. I strained my ears and then, over the wind, I heard the sound of…thunder? I risked a look over my shoulder and immediately spotted what had caught her eye. A line of ten, perhaps twelve, chocobos, yellow and black alike, racing through the valley towards us, kicking up a cloud of snow in their wake.

I spotted a shock of silvery blue hair on the foremost rider and smiled to myself.

The Echo hummed a warning in my mind and whipped around to face my opponent who had been preparing to take advantage of my distraction and immediately shukuchied out of the way. A blast of fire filled the space where I’d been moments before as I rolled to my feet. The Echo hummed again and I leaped away from another blast of fire. Twenty seconds, perhaps thirty, until the knights would arrive. If I could just keep her busy until then.

The aevis sent another blast of fire at me, which I dodged, and Bobby Corwen charged in to deliver another furious kick to one of her outstretched wings. Talons sharp enough to scratch magiteck armor found their mark and sliced through her wings. The aevis screeched, whirled around, and smacked Bobby across the face with her own talons. Bobby went sprawling into the snow. The aevis loomed over him, drawing her arm back to deliver what would certainly be a devastating blow.

Chi. Jin. The cold flared in my chest, I blew a stream of cold in her direction, then bolted towards her. Ice shot up from the ground in less time than it took to blink, curling around her legs, feet, slamming into her stomach, and impaling her vulnerable, outstretched wing. Her roar was nearly deafening but it was worth it to get her attention off of Bobby Corwen, for even just a moment. This ice was far less concentrated than that I had made earlier and she far stronger than a mere mortal, and she broke free of her frigid bonds with little more than a wrench of her muscles.

But by then I was already to her. I jammed both of my daggers into her side, yanked them out, then darted around behind her to deliver a series of quick slices and jabs to her hindquarters.

A voice I did not know screamed out a battle cry and then a flurry of yellow and black chocobos joined the fray, some without their riders who were already on foot and charging the dragon several paces behind their steeds. A black chocobo bearing a familiar knight charged into the space between the aevis and Bobby, his feathers fully ruffled, wings spread in defense. Haurchefant held his sword aloft and Foleux screeched a challenge but the aevis was no longer concerned about Bobby or even me.

Funny how a dozen armed knights and pissed of chocobos could have that effect.

I paused for a moment to watch them. T’was not often I witnessed Ishgardians doing battle against their mortal enemies. Their ferocity never ceased to amaze me, the righteous anger with which they fought every dragon they encountered. Yet would they fight as they did if they knew it were one of their own? …Something told me they would. Perhaps even more ferociously.

The aevis was no match for all of them at once. Even with her fiery breath and ferocious talons, she simply could not repel them all. Every time she managed to drive one back a few paces, two more surged forward to take advantage, hacking, stabbing, slashing, or pelting her with magic. They didn’t even need my help.

She fell with a roar, echoed by a bloodcurdling scream which reverberated through my very being. She expired in the snow a few moments after…and that was that. There was no expulsion of power or aether, she did not return to her elezen form, she simply…lay there, broken, bloody, beaten, and utterly indistinguishable from any other aevis I had killed.

…And suddenly I felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with the climate.

In the silence that followed, the soldiers seemed shaken. They must have heard the scream, too.

I looked to where I had last seen Bobby and exhaled with relief at the sight of him sitting up and being looked over by Haurchefant. I hurried towards them. Haurchefant pressed a handful of snow against the wound and Bobby warbled quietly.

“Where is she?” Haurchefant asked before I could say anything. “The woman.”

Would he believe me?

After a moment of silence, Haurchefant looked down at me. “Where is she?” he repeated.

I pointed.

* * *

Haurchefant exhaled when the chocobo came into view. “Look alive!” he shouted, dismounting Foleux. “The Inquisitor approaches.”

His soldiers scrambled to attention from their positions around the perimeter and the aevis. Dragons were known to come for their fallen brethren after all and they had no way of knowing if this…if… _she…_ was an exception. Best to be prepared. The Warrior, remained kneeling by her chocobo, keeping ice on the wound while the Bobby himself used his own form of magic to mend his face.

Sensing Haurchefant’s gaze, she turned to him with a worried expression.

Haurchefant still could not believe it. None of it. That there were not one but _two_ traitors in his ranks and that they’d been planning to…to…that the woman had turned into a….

It was too much to wrap his mind around. He had…heard tell of such things. Whispers and rumors he had chanced to hear over the years, spoken softly over cups of ale in the quietest parts of the taverns, on hunts far from the city when the more pious ears were elsewhere…. Stories of heretics who became dragons themselves. But he had never truly believed.

He looked at the fallen aevis once more. It— _she_ —was utterly indistinguishable from any other aevis he had seen, in life and in death. Yet he had seen the intelligence in the dragon’s eyes in the moments before her death. The anger. The fear. He had seen the tracks in the snow. The stolen, shell-shocked chocobo, whose feathers were singed with the magical explosion of the…transformation. Not a summoning as they had thought. He did not blame the Warrior of Light for assuming what she had, given the circumstances, and the sight of the woman turning into a dragon must have certainty come as a shock to her.

His soldiers, on the other hand, were less shocked and more horrified. For how— _how_ could it be true? Yet to doubt was to call the Warrior a liar and none were brave (or foolish) enough to decry she who had slain Shiva and Svara. And of course…they had all heard the woman’s scream as the aevis fell.

Haurchefant sighed then the Warrior was still staring at him. He nodded to her once then turned in the direction of the approaching inquisitor. There was much he wished to ask her, but it would need wait until they were once again in the safety of the camp and perhaps the privacy of the intercessory.

Haurchefant bowed politely as the chocobo arrived, bearing both the Inquisitor and the soldier he had sent after her. “Thank you for coming, madam,” he said as she dismounted.

“Had your man arrived any later and I would have already been past the Gates of Judgement,” she replied and then gestured to the corpse. “What’s this?”

“A soldier of Dragonhead,” he replied gravely.

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Not long after your departure, this woman entered the stables and stole away one of the chocobos being prepared for battle,” Haurchefant explained. “The Warrior of Light gave chase and those present followed naught a minute later. At the time of our arrival, we found the her locked in combat with this dragon.”

Brigie pursed her lips but did not seem altogether too surprised. Interesting. “And?”

“The Warrior of Light claims she saw the woman transform into this dragon. The feathers of chocobo she stole—” he gestured to the poor bird whose reins were firmly in the grip of the small hyurian soldier who had been comforting it “—have been singed, and ere she perished, all present heard a woman’s scream.”

Brigie looked at the corpse for another moment and then at the Warrior. “Is this true?”

She nodded once. The Inquisitor narrowed her eyes but said nothing and turned her attention to the aevis once more.

“’Tis likely Verdunaux intended to do the same,” Haurchefant added after a moment.

“Of course he did,” Brigie agreed, her voice oddly flat. “And he shall face the Fury’s judgement for his crimes. As for this one, the Fury’s will hath been made clear. Dispose of the body in the abyss and speak of this to no one.”

“M-my lady?”

“This never happened. You will say that a dragon came at her from above, not recognizing her as its ally.” As she spoke, she slowly turned, making eye contact with each individual soldier before staring down the Warrior of Light, whose own eyes narrowed challengingly. Were there any warmth in the air, Haurchefant was certain it would have been sucked away. “You will say it knocked her into the abyss. If you think the chocobo unharmed then you will say she fell from her mount beforehand. You will say it fought and died as any other dragon does and that you disposed its corpse in the abyss.”

The Warrior of Light rose to her feet and Haurchefant knew there was no way this was going to end well if she opened her mouth. He tried to catch her eye, but she was staring, quite firmly, at the inquisitor, so instead he shook his head and prayed to Halone that she saw him and tempered her fury.

“And if I disagree?” The Warrior of Light intoned with an edge that could slice through steel. Bugger.

“Then you disagree with the word of Holy See…an act which only a heretic would dare attempt.” Brigie replied icily. An uncomfortable mutter swept through the soldiers and Haurchefant’s fists clenched. “Am I understood?”

The Warrior of Light was as still as the dragon’s corpse.

“You are understood, madam,” Haurchefant replied, hoping it would diffuse the situation. It did not, but the Warrior’s focus shifted for a moment and he silently beseeched her to stay her tongue.

Then, to his relief, the Warrior of Light scoffed. “Fine.” Then promptly presented her back to the inquisitor and returned her attention to her chocobo.

Brigie nodded, evidently satisfied, and faced Haurchefant once more. “See that it is done, Lord Greystone. No need to escort me to the city, I believe I can manage another teleport today.”

Haurchefant saluted and bowed politely but no one spoke a word until the light of the teleportation spell had faded and the inquisitor was gone. In the silence that followed, he could hear the distant howling of the abyss, the gentle wind which blew through the pass, the quiet clinking of mail, and the even softer chirps of the chocobos milling about not far off…and he wondered how it had come to this. Heretics among his soldiers, a plot to overrun Dragonhead, people turning into dragons, and the Holy See...the Holy See… Well, there was no point in circumventing it, now was there? The Holy See _knew_ that people could become dragons. Such knowledge was common enough within the higher administration that even an undecorated inquisitor knew. Knew to cover it up.

He turned around slowly. His soldiers were staring at him, confused, apprehensive, uncertain. He was every bit as lost as them in that moment but he could not let it show. They were depending on him to take charge, waiting for him to say something, _anything_.

He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “You heard her. You know what must be done.”

“B-but my lord,” stammered a soldier near the corpse. “How are we to move it to the cliff?”

“Well, seeing as there are over a dozen of us, I would say together is our best course of action.” Haurchefant pretended he didn’t notice two of them roll their eyes. “Come, we must be quick.”

For some of these men, their participation in the kill could have bolstered their prospects. Slaying a dragon, even in a team, was a notable feat. Knighthoods could even be earned in some circumstances. Some talons, teeth, scales, the skin of the wings—any of these things could be removed and presented to the Temple Knights as evidence of their deeds. The soldiers should be clamoring to take a piece. But none of them had tried, not before the Inquisitor’s arrival, and not as they dragged and rolled her body towards the cliff. It was for the same reason that simply throwing her body over the cliff felt wrong. This was no ordinary aevis. She had awoken as a woman, ate breakfast with them as a comrade. A heretic she may have been, a traitor to all which they held sacred, and a breaker of her oaths but she had been _an elezen_. Everything about this was abhorrent and wrong and Haurchefant had so many questions, questions he feared would go unanswered for the rest of his life.

But even as her body was shoved over the cliff into the abyss, where it would be claimed by the violent tempest of aether, part of Haurchefant desperately wished he could forget any of this had ever happened.

He looked over his shoulder at the Warrior of Light, who had not helped them dispose of the body. Their eyes locked and she looked just so…so…sad.

Haurchefant sighed. “Let us return to camp,” he announced loudly but then lowered his voice. “I know we are all troubled by what has occurred, but I bid you remember the Inquisitor’s words and keep your silence. If not for your sakes, then for your families.”

For they all knew what would happen should they be accused of treason.

The Warrior of Light maintained her usual silence as they rode back to camp, side by side. Neither she nor Bobby Corwen seemed altogether worse for the wear despite their respective injuries, which was a relief, but there was something uncharacteristically muted about her. Sure, she was quiet by nature, especially around large crowds, but Haurchefant had learned that she spoke volumes with her face, her movements, sometimes even how she was holding herself. For all that she was an imposing force of nature, she was quite expressive and surprisingly easy to read. At least to him. And everything about her was just…dimmed. Was it the stress of the morning? What she had seen? Her battle or wounds? The threat from Brigie?

Haurchefant tried to keep an eye on her without making it obvious he was doing so. She never once looked at him.

He knew she had little love for the Halonic faith and all it entailed but she had put up with it thus far. Was this finally it? Did the Inquisitor cross some unseen line and push her too far? Had she finally had enough of it and them that she was ready to leave Coerthas and not come back? He had only known her a few months and seen her but a handful of times outside instances of mortal peril, but already he could not imagine his life without her in it. He hardly lived for her visits, but they were like a burst of warmth in the constant frigidness of his life. Just seeing her never failed to bring a smile to his face. He had admired her from afar since before he knew her and cared for her a great deal now that he did. Might very well be falling for her. (For all the good it would inevitably do him. He was a knight of Ishgard and she a free spirit bound to no nation.) Yet he kept his silence on their trek back to camp for such things were best left to when twelve sets of ears could not overhear.

Upon arriving in Dragonhead, Haurchefant immediately noted with satisfaction that the officers and knights had kept preparations going in his absence. The canons were manned, the northeast battlements lined with archers and lookouts. He took the reins of the wounded chocobo, bid the knights in his company to turn their chocobos over to their regular riders, then turned to the Warrior of Light.

“I would speak with you ere you depart,” he told her. She nodded wordlessly.

Haurchefant steered Foleux towards the stables. One of the stable hands saw them coming and rushed out to meet them. Haurchefant dismounted and handed the hyur woman the wounded chocobos’ reins.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she murmured, brushing her hand across the singed feathers. “What happened?”

“Dragon fire,” Haurchefant lied, “though he seems to have been spared the worst of it…unlike his thief.”

The hand’s eyes widened in horror for a moment. “I shall see he is cared for, my lord.”

“Thank you, madam.” Haurchefant replied and then motioned for the Warrior to follow him.

She dismounted Bobby Corwen and they left the chocobos just outside the stables. They crossed the clearing climbed the steps to the aetheryte platform, then again to northwest battlement overlooking Whitebrim. No one was up there for the moment, most the garrison’s focus on the northeastern wall, which was just as well for Haurchefant would have sent them elsewhere. The intercessory was better suited for such talks but the battlement would have to do as he simply could not disappear right now, much less with the Warrior of Light.

“What will you do now?” she asked as they reached the battlement.

Haurchefant took a deep breath. “Though I readied the garrison for battle, t’was but a precaution.  In light of Fanette’s death, I believe we no longer are in danger of an imminent attack, but there is still the matter of the growing number dravanians to the north. I must needs consult with mine officers as well as my father, perhaps even Ser Aymeric, but I do believe we possess the wherewithal and sufficient reason to march on the Steel Vigil within the coming days. A full reclamation may yet be beyond us but if the scout reports are accurate, we can yet purge the Vigil of a significant portion of its forces. Enough to grant us another measure of safety, however fleeting.”

She nodded slowly, taking it all in. Haurchefant glanced down to the courtyard below. No one was paying any attention of them, thankfully.

“Are you alright?” the Warrior of Light asked him softly.

Haurchefant scoffed, taken aback. “Y-you’re asking me?”

“Well…yeah.” She rested her hands atop the merlon in front of her, staring in the direction of their recent battle. “I mean, all of this has been a bit…much.”

He hummed in agreement. “I suppose that is one way to put it. I—I am sorry that she, the Inquisitor, I am sorry for what she did.”

“Don’t be,” the Warrior replied stiffly. “It’s not your fault.”

  
“Nevertheless, I feel I must apologize regardless. In all the time I’ve known her, I have never seen her behave as such. This whole mess must have her on edge as much as I.” He didn’t know why he was trying to defend Brigie. He _shouldn’t_ be.

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But she wasn’t surprised. I was watching her. She didn’t look half as blindsided as you did, and you don’t just…you don’t just take something like that in stride.” Her eyes narrowed. “She bloody _knew_ it was possible. Hell, I’ll bet she knew what was really going on from the start.”

Haurchefant sighed. “I agree but, please, keep your voice down.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Stupid,” she muttered, almost sounding disgusted and Haurchefant’s heart sank. Then she slammed her fist against the stone. “All of it. All of them. Especially _them_.”

“Verdunaux and Fanette?”

“Yeah. They had a great plan going. You only suspected he had an accomplice, but you had no idea who and neither did I. If she hadn’t gone charging after him, I wouldn’t have seen her and had that vision, and we wouldn’t have known. She could’ve still done some damage or…lived to fight another day. But no, she decided to go and risk everything to save him and get herself killed instead of just sticking to the mission. Idiot.”

Haurchefant hummed thoughtfully. “Well, it bespeaks a certain degree of selflessness and loyalty. Though from a strategic standpoint, yes it was foolish.”

“It’s ‘cos they were lovers,” she said matter-of-factly.

He quirked his lip. “You never struck me as the romantic sort.”

“No, I mean they really were lovers. The Echo decided to show me some manner of intimate moment.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, right, I did not ask—what did you see this time?”

“Just…flashes of things, impressions. It was very quick. I know he convinced her to turn traitor, they shared the…potion, or whatever it really was, and had two separate staffs prepared.”

“Ever has Verdunaux been somewhat…arrogant but from what I knew of Fanette she was a good person. Devout. Loyal.” Haurchefant shook his head. “I cannot imagine what would have caused her to turn. Surely love could not have blinded her so. …What did he say to her?”

The Warrior chewed her lip. “I…don’t know, only that it was some sort of truth and she was horrified by it, whatever it was….” She trailed of and bit her lip once more. She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment and Haurchefant resisted the urge to touch her arm or shoulder. “I would like to speak freely.”

He could not help the gasp which followed, nor the feeling of alarm which zinged through him. “M-my dear, you may always speak freely to me. When have I ever made you feel as if you could not?” She gave him a rather pointed look and he stared at her in confusion for several moments, wracking his brain for any time he may have…oh. Last night, of course. He sighed, eyes closing briefly. “Alright. Allow me to rephrase: you may always speak freely to me so long as we are in a place which is safe to do so. Which we are.”

“…Alright. Then I have a question for you. What do the heretics believe?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “I…” He didn’t know, and that realization alone was enough to stun him. “The topic of the heretics is practically taboo outside very few and specific contexts. Such questions are hardly discussed in the open…or at all. I-I confess that I have never given the question much thought. I can tell you what they _don’t_ believe but I imagine you yourself are already aware.” Her mouth twisted in displeasure and he found himself scrambling to come up with something, anything. “B-but whatever their beliefs, they have caused countless men and women, highborn and low, to forsake kith and kin and side with the Dravanians.”

“Don’t you find that strange? It’s been one thousand years and none of you know what the heretics—or even the dragons—really believe. And after today…don’t you wonder what else the Holy See is hiding from you all?”

Haurchefant glanced around quickly then ducked his head. He did wonder. He did find it strange. But what could he do? To question the Holy See, or worse, turn his back on them, would see him branded a traitor on top of being a bastard, and bring further shame upon his father, family, and house. To even _think_ such things would probably be damnable if proven.

The Warrior watched him closely, head slightly cocked, gauging his reaction. “Remember how I said they’re brave, that lot?” she asked. “Try to imagine being Verdunaux for a minute. He cared for Fanette, a lot. Telling her that he was a heretic was a very dangerous move. If she hadn’t been won over, he would’ve probably had to kill her to keep her silent. He had to have known that…but he believed that his truth would be enough to convince her.” She turned to face him completely. “He risked his lover’s life. And then not only did he convince her to switch sides, he convinced her to take part in a massacre of her former comrades in arms, possibly members of her family, and to literally give up her humanity.”

“He—you’re right.” Haurchefant shook his head. He didn’t like this; it was too dangerous. But he pushed through it because, damn it all, he had just been ordered to lie about the death of one of his soldiers, and he wanted _answers_. “Which, again, leads me to pose the question: what did he say to her?”

The Warrior of Light shrugged, shaking her head. “I don’t know enough about this war or your people to even guess.” Stepping forward, she reached for his hand and curled her fingers around his loosely. “You are one of the most noble men I know.”

He laughed softly and squeezed her fingers. “You must have had a very poor sampling of men.”

“Oh, stop it. You are.” She smiled at him. “Of blood and principles.” He laughed again, though this time at the irony of her words. “You are kind, you are loyal. You told me that you chose to serve as a knight because it was a cause worthy of dedicating your life to, not because you had to. …So maybe ask yourself what it would take for you to give this up and fight on the opposing side.”

His mind went blank. Completely, utterly blank. That…it…they—

Blank again.  
  
He…

_I…_

_What would it take to turn me against my people?_

He…

He had no idea.

His immediate thought was that he would never, _could_ never—

But—

Verdunaux must have once thought the same. Fanette. Any number of the heretics he and his fellows had slain.

What _would_ it take?

The heretics believed that ancient Ishgard had begun the war, somehow. If he spoke to a heretic, if he allowed himself to listen to their words… Would their version of history be enough to sway him? What could his ancestors have possibly done that was so _horrible_?

The Warrior smiled wryly at him and stepped back, her fingers slipping from his grasp. He blinked quickly and realized that he’d been staring at her blankly for longer than was proper.

She pursed her lips. “Think on that, I suppose.”

Below, someone called to Haurchefant and with that, their brief solitude was concluded. He leaned over the banister and raised his hand in acknowledgement, though he knew not whom exactly had shouted. “I shall be down shortly!”

“I should go,” the Warrior murmured.

Haurchefant swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and turned. “Will you return?”

She cocked her head to the side. “At some point when I can, aye. Don’t worry.” She smiled. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Oh, perish the thought,” he replied with a grin of his own. Thank Halone. “I told you once that Highlands are made warmer by your presence, did I not?” She rolled her eyes at that. “What sort of fool would want to rid us of such a thing?”

“Oh, stop it, you.”

They returned to the stables after that for her chocobo. Foleux and Bobby were right where they’d been left, kwehing softly at each other. Friends, just like their faithful owners. There was something sweet about that. Bobby was almost completely recovered from him injuries in the field and in the stables, the other wounded chocobo was being fussed over by the stable hands. Both gave Haurchefant a sense of satisfaction. The traitors had done no lasting harm. Not physical, at any rate. There was a lot of work to be done now, questions which would need answered, schedules and routines to reorganize, but those were manageable. They would endure, they would survive, as they always had.

The Warrior wrapped her hand in Bobby’s reigns and took a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth. “Be safe,” she said softly.

He smiled. “And you as well.”

“See you soon, I promise.”

Haurchefant nodded once. She lingered for a moment, just staring at him with a small smile playing at her lips. He dipped into a polite bow just because he knew it would make her smile more, and it did. Then she shut her eyes and began the teleportation spell. Light enveloped her and then she and her chocobo dissolved into the aether. In the aftermath, the air felt a bit lighter, the wind a little sharper, and he sighed.

Back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this one. I promise this was important lol. 
> 
> Next up: post-Ul'dah and pre-Heavensward shenanigans.

**Author's Note:**

> pls comment it validates me


End file.
